


High Above Me

by MsAtomicBomb



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 100 Years' War, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Medieval, But no rape, Mentions of Rape, Multi, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2612258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsAtomicBomb/pseuds/MsAtomicBomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis Bonnefoy is making his way back to his estate when he comes across the most dreaded sight he has ever seen; an entire village was purged to the ground. He witnesses women's, children's, and men's scattered corpses. But from the midst of the living hell, came a weak figure. The Frenchman then becomes fond of the new young lady; Jeanne d'Arc. He takes her home and feels the need to care for her. Soon enough the Infanta of Spain, Francis' Fiancée, returns from her visit to Spain and also becomes fond of the new young lady. But what happens when Isabel is told that the young Lady is to save France? Will Jeanne ever live up to her fate? Or will she fail trying to bring peace between the Kingdom of France and the Kingdom of England to finally end The Hundred Years' War?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fateful Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Talk of Religion: Catholicism (So if you cannot deal with the mentions of God, then you are free to leave; Considering this is a fic on Saint Jeanne d'Arc.) Mentions of many deaths, mentions of possible rape or already occurred rape, descriptive scenes of War.
> 
> \-------
> 
> Dear readers,
> 
> Hello everyone and welcome to this story~! I am very excited to see what you all think of this story, so please do write comments and suggestions, as well as corrections. I, personally, feel very proud of this story (First one I have ever felt proud of) and I really am hoping for you to like it. Again this is a historical Medieval AU, and we all know that back in the day they were very religious (In Europe the main Religion being Catholicism in the 15th Century; the Protestant Reform had still not occurred). I have read reviews on other stories in which people cannot stand the constant mention of God, if you are one of them, this may not be the story for you. Do keep in mind that Jeanne d'Arc is a Saint of the Catholic Church and faith, so please do respect that fact. Either way she will be very different in the story than she was in real life. The early events in this FanFiction do not depict her life, they are from my imagination. However many of the battles will hold truth in respect to History and some OC's are real people; beginning with the Duke of Alençon (Otherwise known as Beau Duc) and the Dauphin of France; Charles, lather known as Charles VII of France.
> 
> Again, please do enjoy the story.
> 
> Sincerely, for the first time in High Above Me,
> 
> ~Ms Atomic Bomb  
> 

Riding his horse all throughout the night, Francis still couldn't find any sign of life.

Only bloody limp bodies covered the grass floor. He was careful not to let his horse step on a single inch of the lifeless civilians.

"If anyone is out there, please answer me!" Francis proclaimed. Once again the horrid smell of rotten flesh filled the morning atmosphere. Francis couldn't stand this smell, or this sight.

The dreadful sight, it consisted of many but many horrid things. To begin with, the men of the town had slashes everywhere. Their faces stuck in timeless horror. The agony and pain they had died in reflected on their facial expressions. The women, on the contrary, had their chests exposed and some no longer possessed breasts, only a gory mess. By skimming the bodies, Francis also noticed that the women's skirts were ripped up to the waist and once again, blood stained their womanhood.

Francis could only look away in disgust. Was this really the work of his people? It couldn't be. Yet somewhere in his heart, Francis knew that it was done by what he wishes to protect.

"Please, anybody! Answer me!" Francis cried once more, tears streaming down his fragile face and his heart ached.

"Sil-vous-plait! Quel q'une! Please answer me!" But from the complete despair of what seemed like hell, nothing emerged.

Finally, the horrific smell of rotten flesh got to him and not taking the smells and sights any second longer; he hurled into the ashes that used to be rich green grass.

As Francis tried to rid himself of this sickness, he heard small noises that seemed rather unnatural. He immediately looked about and tried to focus on moving objects.

Out of the complete death, a figure stood and walked towards Francis.

Francis gasped and drew his sword. He was unsure of what the figure was. But seeing the way as to how the figure was walking, he could see they were weak and probably traumatized if not injured.

"Who are you?" Francis asked, projecting his voice louder than usually.

Sobbing filled Francis' ear and the figure stumble over the dead bodies, as they came closer.

"Answer me! Who are you?" Francis stood his ground.

And as the figure drew closer, he noticed it was a young lady, no older than sixteen or so. She was covered in mud and blood and her dress obtained slashes everywhere. Her cheeks were tear stained and her eyes were both glassy and swollen. She walked as if she was drunk and she seemed extremely weak. Her eyes were half lidded and her lips were chapped, having a crack of blood in them. She kept her hands hugging something around her neck, and her arms covering her half-exposed bosom. She coughed a bit as she came within feet of Francis, and he could not tell if the blood that lingered on her lips were from them being chapped or from her coughing up blood.

Finally reacting at the site before him, Francis sheathed his sword and ran to the girl before she fell to the floor.

As he looked into her obscured blue eyes, Francis could tell that she was unable to understand the situation. She was unsure if to scream and try to break from his arms, or fall into them with the remains of her life. Was he one of the Burgundians? Or was he her guardian angel?

"It'll be just fine, I'll take you to a safe place. You'll be safe." Francis mumbled as to assure her that she would be fine. And with that –with the assurance of what she understood was her guardian angel –she fainted.

Francis covered her with his cloak and carried her to his horse, where he had some trouble getting her on the horse itself. After succeeding, Francis was able to climb upon his horse and begin to slowly make his way to his city. He was unsure if he should just leave, considering that she might have not been the only one alive, but if he wanted the young girl to live, it was time to leave.

Upon arriving at his estate by evening, he was surrounded by his servants. His nurse emerged from the crowd and looked up at him. "Welcome home, Young Master. What have you brought with you?" She tilted her head at the sight of a passed out woman.

"On my return from Chinon, meeting with my cousin, I stumbled upon a destroyed village. It was the Burgundians' doing. As far as I know, this girl was the only spared. May you prepare a bed for her and some new clothes to change her into; I want to treat her with our best hospitality."

"Yes my lord." The nurse nodded and headed towards the mansion at once.

He looked down at his servants and smiled softly. "May you all prepare dinner, I hope for her to awaken soon and I want food ready for her." He ordered.

"Would you like help, my young master?" A stable boy asked, after looking at the unconscious woman.

"No thank you, I believe that I can take her to her room from here, but I would like for you to clean Lealia, and feed her too. Sorry for the trouble." Francis sighed.

"Do not worry master. I will do as you please." The stable boy nodded.

After dismounting his horse, Francis had a sort of a struggle getting her off the horse and then taking her to a room that his Nurse had prepared for her.

"Francis, are you positive that you found her?" His nurse looked at him.

Francis rose an eyebrow and mumbled a "What?"

"What I mean to say is are you sure that she is not some sort of-"

"I would really like you to respect this young lady, my dear nurse. I feel upset that you think of her as such. When I found her, she was weak and can you not see that she is not conscious?" Francis was bewildered.

"Young Master, I do not mean to offend you, but-"

"But nothing. I will not tolerate your behaviour towards our guest. If you will not help her recover, then I will have to find someone else, if not myself." Francis turned on his heel and left the room.

Walking back to his respective chambers he sighed and sat upon his bed. He looked at the bell above his head and rang it. Moments later a servant entered his room. "Yes my young lord?" A young lady bowed.

"I am very sorry that I am making you all work so hard, but may you please prepare a bath, darling." He smiled lightly. The young servant blushed a little at his tease and proceeded into preparing a bath. How could she not blush? Aside from the part that he was handsome, his cousin was the Dauphin of France after all.

After his bath was ready, Francis slipped into it and began his train of thought. He was unsure if the young lady he had brought home would want to recall the horrid events of her past, meaning he was unsure if he wanted to ask her for any details. But if he wanted to help her, she needed to co-operate with him. Without her co-operation, helping her would go nowhere.

He thought about how she looked this morning; her face pale and on the verge of death, her eyes obscure, her lips chapped, her dress torn, her skin bruised and cut, her hair dirty, her nails broken and muddied, her feet scratched and covered in blood -probably not her own-, her figure skinny and her legs weak.

He wished to never see a girl so destroyed again. She looked too innocent to deserve such a fate. But then again, Life nowadays was life, and if you did not live in the riches, you would never get out of such a lowly life unless you were married into it, which barely happened between nobles and commoners.

* * *

Days went by and the young lady still had not awoken, she lay sleeping in her bed, without anyone disturbing her ever so often. On occasion, when Francis was not at a meeting or attending an event, he would slip into her room and wait until, hopefully, she would open her eyes.

After his nurse had cleaned her up, Francis was finally able so actually see her face. Although her eyes were still quite swollen, and her lips still sprung quite a bit of blood.

He stood from the seat below the window at the north end of the room, opposite to the mahogany door and to the left of the king sized royal purple bed.

Walking out of the room, he sighed, for she had still not awakened. It felt as if she would never wake up and he would never get to talk to her.

Sighing loudly and shaking his head, Francis walked out of the young lady's room and proceeded to attending the meeting that he had arranged for some Generals.  
"Nurse," Francis called upon, stepping out of the room, "inform me when she awakes. No matter what I am doing..."

"Yes my young lord." She nodded.

After arriving at the meeting room, he sat in his chair that laid above all the rest of the seats surrounding the huge circular table and awaited the rest of the members. When all the generals had arrived, the meeting was in session.

"Personally, I believe that if we move up from the Seine then we would be ambushed, and do you not agree that we should be fighting for Orléans rather than Rouen?" A general stood against another, with Francis finally tuning in his attention to the meeting rather than the young lady.

Francis looked upon the generals for their thoughts. Without a word from anyone he began. "Rouen does seem like a risky idea. What I mean to say is that it makes no sense for us to take a risk in Rouen when Orléans needs us more. I just do not quite understand as to why you all thought of Rouen first. It is a horrible idea to begin with..." Francis sighed. He never liked politics but if he wanted to keep his country alive; he needed to put his mind and soul into it.

"But sir, it was the Dauphin's -"

"I apologize for interrupting, my good lord, but she has awoken." Francis' nurse opened the door unexpectedly, causing a commotion about the generals.

"I rule an hour's break. Meet back here in exactly sixty minutes, after so, we will presume the meeting." Francis stood from his seat and raced out the door, after biding quick farewells (of course leaving the generals dumbfounded).

Dashing into her room swiftly, Francis laid his sapphire orbs upon the sitting female.

She looked startled and scared as he approached her.

"Mon ange, you're finally awake." Francis grinned, his long blond locks falling ever so perfectly around his face.

"W-who are you?" She tilted her head slightly to the right.

"Oh, my name is Francis Bonnefoy, I brought you home with me after I found you in your torn down village." He began.

"Is this your estate?" She mumbled.

"Ah oui, c'est ma maison..." Francis wandered. "I'm sorry to ask, but what is your name?" He questioned.

"Mon nom?" The girl raised a blond eyebrow.

"Oui, ton nom." Francis insisted.

"But you are a stranger to me... Since you have taken good care of me, I shall repay you with my name and some labour, but as soon as I pay off, I should be on my way." She put her manners first.

"Non, no labour, you've been through a lot. All I wish to earn from you is your name and some information about what happened."

"What happened about what?" Her eyes were filled with confusion.

"Ah... Oh... You don't quite recall as to why you're here, do you?" Francis questioned.

"In actuality, with my most sincerity, I do not recall as to why I am at your estate at all. I am very confused..."

"Oh... Well, would you like me to explain to you, or rather you remember?"

"I would rather remember, my good sir. I am deeply sorry." She nodded, wishing to stand and give a deep curtsy.

"Do not fret, mon amour." Francis let his award-winning smile slip. He really did fancy her.

Aside the fact as to where he had found her, Francis felt like she could be with him for a while. He put aside the other fact that he was of royal blood and for all he knew she was a peasant, but she was lovely.

She seemed to be very well educated for her class, and she was rather beautiful; a quality none really possessed nowadays. Considering they were at war and all the beautiful women were either married, dead, or raped.

"My good sir, what would you like me to do?" The young lady questioned from the bed.

Ignoring her question and raising an eyebrow, he turned to her "Are you a virgin?" Francis asked.

Jeanne was rather taken aback by the sudden questioned and quite offended by it, to be frank.

"With all due respect sir, but should you really be asking a lady this question? Do I look like a prostitute to you?" She was bewildered.

"I do not mean to offend you, milady. Rather I am trying to understand you. One does not need to be a prostitute to not be a virgin; _that_ is actually quite offensive. What I should have asked was if you were married." Francis reworded.

"No I am not married and I am indeed a virgin." Now Jeanne was dumbfounded.

"Well then, that rules out the option that you are a witch, for virgins cannot be taken by Satan, and thus meaning you are still innocent, to certain things at least." Francis recalled the gory scene.

"A witch? Why on earth would you think that I was witch? It makes absolutely no sense... Unless it has to do with why I am here..."

"But if you wish to remember as to why you came to stumble upon this situation, I think that I should leave your memory to yourself, because I am not sure as to why I found you to begin with." Francis sat on the same seat as before, the one under the window, and then decided to look out the window as he paid attention to the sweet sound of her voice.

"Who exactly are you, milord?" The young lady pondered.

"Francis Bonnefoy." He answered, still listening to her voice and barely hearing her words.

"Yes, I do know that, but I mean-"

"Cousin of the Dauphin. His right hand man, his eyes, his ears, his mouth. I am the Dauphin's trustworthy slave, of which happens to be his cousin. I may be of royal blood, but I do no act as if it is so." Francis' blue eyes sparkled a little, hoping she would be impressed.

"T-the D-D-Dauphin's cousin!" She proclaimed, trying to quickly get off of the bed to kneel and sadly not succeeding without a groan or cry of pain.

"No!" Francis stood from the chair and ran to the girl after hearing the painful cry. "No need to kneel at all. I did just mention that I never act like a royal? Please don't strain yourself, dear." He hurried to her side and helped her back onto the bed for she had tried her best to bow before him.

"But that would be very rude of me, your grace." She mumbled.

"No, it is not. Please don't treat me like I am a royal. In my eyes, everyone is equal." Francis smiled.

"My name is Jeanette d'Arc, but I prefer to be called Jeanne, your grace." She suddenly remembered his request.

Francis smiled softly. "Jeanne..." He let it slip from his soft lips. "I fancy your name quite a lot, milady." He looked at her in the eyes, curling the end of his lips just a little more, to give off a small grin.

Jeanne sat on the bed still, not moving an inch, not even breathing. She held her breath tight and looked at the male with wide blue eyes. A soft blush creeping on her cheeks.

"Do you at least like my name?" Francis sat on the bed next to her.

"Of course, your grace. It reminds me of Saint Francis, of which I very much look up to. And since it is your grace's name then it is even more suitable." Jeanne bobbed her blonde head.

"No, I don't mean if it is suitable, I am asking if you like my name. As in, is it a nice name?" He chuckled lightly, his features lighting up with joy.

"Oui, j'aime le nom Francis."

"You're not just saying that because I'm royal, right? I want to know your honest opinion."

"Yes, your grace, I do like your name." She nodded once more.

"Please don't call me that. My name is Francis, and that is how I prefer it. You don't want me to call you Jeanette or little peasant, now do you?" Francis raised a blonde eyebrow.

"I apologize my good sir."

"Francis." He corrected.

"Francis." She whispered, almost going unheard.

The Frenchman smiled brightly and stood from the bed. "As much as I would like to remain in this room talking to you, I need to attend my meeting, since I stopped it to come see you." He sighed. Had it almost been sixty minutes?

Jeanne watched as he began to make his way to the door. But as she watched him walk away, her vision seemed to shift scenarios. No longer was she sitting on the bed that Sir Francis had prepared for her, but rather she was on the muddy ground, houses burned all around her and ashes filled the night's sky along with children's and women's screams of horror.

An armed man came before her and knelt down to meet her gaze with hungry lustful eyes.

Immediately she knew what was about to happen, and with all the energy she had left, she screamed.

Finally switching back to the current scenario, she felt her body spring out of the bed and run towards the departing Frenchman. She flung onto him and screamed for him to remain.

Francis was caught off guard. He had just heard a blood curling scream from the girl and once he felt slender arms wrapping around his torso, he was bewildered. Just a second ago she kept true to her manners, and now she was rather informal, not that he minded at all.

"Please stay." She muffled into his back.

"Are you feeling fine?" Francis mumbled, although he knew the answer.

Ignoring her cuts and bruises, she held unto him tightly, making sure he wouldn't leave her alone.

Francis sighed and looked down at the girl's hands, seeing as they were intertwined around his upper abdomen.

"I'll stay with you, just wait a second." He smiled, she couldn't see it but she could hear it.

"No. Don't leave." She pleaded again, seeing that he was still going to open the door.

"I'm not leaving, Jeanne, I'm only going to tell my nurse to cancel the meeting. It will only take a few seconds, and I promise, after that I'll stay with you." Francis stated.

"They're going to find me... Please stay." Her voice cracked.

"Nurse!" Francis called. "Cancel the meeting for today." He added before the nurse went into the room.

"For what reason?" His nurse asked from the other side of the door, knowing better than to enter.

"Inform them that I had to attend some rather important matters." He replied then, after a few seconds, he heard her footsteps as they left.

"Well, Jeanne, who is it that's coming after you?" Francis shuffled in her arms a bit to finally face her.

Jeanne was silent for a long time, she didn't even move. She only stood, hugging the royal and clinging to him.

"The soldiers..." She finally hushed.

Francis looked down at her for a little while, he then made his own arms wrap securely around her. "The soldiers won't get to you. I promise that I'll protect you."

With quick realization of what she was doing all along, Jeanne let go of Francis and fell to the floor. Her knees were not able to hold her weight any longer, considering the state they were in, she also realized that she looked like some kind of floozy, holding on to the royal.

"Jeanne!" Francis fell to his knees to meet her at the floor, sadly this time around, he didn't catch her and she hit the ground hard.

There was a screech of pain that filled the room, before Francis lifted the girl from the floor and brought her over to the bed; gently leaving her on top of it, careful not to hurt her wounds.

"No! You didn't have to leave me here; you should have left me there. I should have gotten up by myself." She felt horrible for making a royal lift her and bring her to the bed. Royals shouldn't be breaking a nail over a weak peasant like her.

"Jeanne, you are a guest at my house and I need to treat you with utmost respect, okay?" He spoke, assuring her not to alert herself.

"I'm very sorry, but please stay here. If you don't, the soldiers are going to-"

Not being able to finish, a soldier (one of Francis' personal guards) ran into the room.

Immediately, Jeanne let out a horrible scream as she tried to hide in the covers of the bed, making Francis and the soldier quite confused.

Francis looked at his soldier, of which was alarmed beyond belief but seemed to be panting.

"Your grace, General Timmons has been killed." The soldier shook to reality, forgetting about the girl and focusing on his original task.

Francis' eyes grew wider. "I'll be right there." He confirmed, and the soldier disappeared behind the door.

Francis turned to Jeanne and kissed the top of her head, as if to calm her down. "I apologize for that and for me having to leave in such a hurry, would you like for me to get someone to protect you, or rather you stay alone interrupted?"

Jeanne emerged from the bed covers, processing that the soldier who entered her room had no intention of hurting her, but rather alerted her of danger.

"I wish to wait until you return, in solitude. In the meanwhile, try to remember as to why I am here." Jeanne's blue orbs looked into Francis'.

"Agreed. I will instruct the servants to not let anyone other than my nurse and me to enter." Francis whispered before leaving the room and doing as he had said.

Francis scurried to the threshold of his estate and got in the carriage to be taken to the scene of the crime. How was it that his only Scottish general was killed? And only a little while ago he was sitting next to him at the meeting. Damn it! If only he hadn't canceled the idiotic meeting.

Upon arriving at the crime scene, Francis stepped out of the carriage to see his now deceased friend.

"Your grace, you are here."

"Yes, anyway, how did this come to be?" Francis ignored the greeting and got down to the nitty gritty.

"All we know is that he got down from his horse and seconds later he was stabbed by a French male." The investigator reported.

"A Frenchman? What profession?" Francis asked, seeing that his old friend was dead, an arrow protruding from his back. At the angle that the arrow pierced, it surely had his heart.

* * *

In the mean while, Jeanne sat still and looked straight at the portrait of a young lady in front of her. In the portrait the woman wore a sweet empire red dress, highlighting her sweet upper curves. Her hair was dark red and her skin softly sun kissed. A soft pink adorned her lips as pearls bejewelled her neck line while she sat straight; her body facing a forty degree angle to her left but her face stared straight, there was a small smile gracing her lips, as if she were shy or she were sad.

There was something off about this lady, and for some reason Jeanne felt a little jealous of her. She was not really sure why exactly, but she felt that she needed to be jealous of her. It was not because the lady was obviously noble or rich, and Jeanne was a simple peasant, or because the lady was gorgeous and was plump in places that needed to be, while Jeanne on the other hand, was too thin for comfort and not plump where needed be. Jeanne's breasts weren't full, but they still didn't need to be, she was sixteen after all, and she didn't posses an hour glass shape that every man wanted, she had many flaws in order to be a perfect girl, not to mention Jeanne had cuts and bruises covering the majority of her body. Despite Jeanne's appearance or economical state, she wasn't jealous of this woman because of such things, but rather for a more significant reason.

Completely trying to ignore the portrait of the person in front of her, she focused more on trying to remember what had happened, but seeing that nothing had returned to her, she decided to gather up the only remaining strength she had a decided to take a little trip around the manor, to get acquainted of where she was currently staying.

Standing up from the bed that was given to her for her to recover, she quickly slipped into a night gown that sat by the bed and limped to the door. She knew that she was not allowed to wander the halls but she was very tempted, if anything she would leave right away.

Walking down the rather large hallway, she tried not to bump into the many birch or maple tables that contained valuable items, although it was hard with her limping and tumbling.

Slowly and cautiously, Jeanne limped down the stairs and looked around the rather huge entrance. She could have sworn the she was probably in a castle of some sort. The doors were about twenty feet high, made out of mahogany wood, with a soaring ceiling which held a huge chandelier; possibly made out of gold, if Jeanne's eyes didn't deceive her. And the stairs had been grand, two wings coming from opposite sides then meeting in the middle to form a platform and another staircase facing the entrance.

There were flower pots hanging from the stair rails and from the walls, along with more lights here and there (everywhere) to light up the room, as well as stained glass windows of either religious figures or political heads. This allowed for natural light to enter the manor.

There were coat racks by the door and banners around the walls. Most consisted of crests and Fleur de lis. And a red carpet covered all. But above the platform, a grand painting of a family sat untouched. A woman sat with a navy blue dress, holding a child on her lap, and a man standing to the right of them. Jeanne wished to know who they were but she was not sure if to ever ask.

She then walked to the kitchen, where many chefs and cooks were preparing dinner. Then to the dining room, of which was full of butlers preparing the table. Seeing that there was no purpose for her, she left the main floor, and slowly headed back up the stairs, to hopefully find the room she was using.

Thinking she had arrived to her destination, she opened a door to find a completely different room. The chambers she had stumbled upon were fancier than hers; the bed was grand and splashed with a royal purple and golden Fleur de Lis. It was spectacular and overwhelming. A window on the right side of the bed was stained glass with a figure of Jesus, while the one on the left (being enormous) was clear. And the view was extraordinary; vast land of trees and fields for miles and miles.

She softly bit her bottom lip in amazement. This was surreal. There were gold frames with gorgeous landscapes painted in their canvases and light torches to be lit in the evening. There was a couch at the foot of the bed and a desk in the right most far corner from the door. Upon a night stand next to the bed, a Rosary and mini statue of Mother Mary perched themselves, and on the desk a crucifix was steadied.

She softly smiled and headed to the desk in order to feel the crucifix in her small hands. But as she went to pick it up, it didn't detach from the mahogany table. She tried once more and had pushed it back; that was when it had lifted off the table only to reveal a secret entry way next to her.

Gasping lightly, Jeanne looked inside the entry way and tried to close it. Yet in the failure of doing so, she tripped into the dark hall way. Not being able to see a thing; she continued down the hall, a long staircase and another long hallway until she hit what felt like another doorway. Placing her delicate hands on the cold metal knob of the door, she slowly turned it; only to reveal a lovely room.

One huge window spread across the other three walls of the room; letting sunshine pour everywhere like wine in a tavern. There were fancy couches with designs of roses and vines. They were clearly silk or cashmere; Jeanne was not well familiar with expensive fabrics so she was not sure.

There was a desk in the opposed end to the door, and it was clearly expensive as well. By the door a violin sat still and a music stand right next to it.

Overwhelmed by the beauty of the room, there were tears in her sapphire orbs. Though once she saw that on the coffee table a Holy Bible and Rosary sat; she was moved to short sobs. That was lovely. He had so much love for God. This was amazing.

After suppressing her overwhelming tears, she looked around the room and decided to take a look around it. On the desk a silver locket perched neatly.

As she opened it, a portrait of a young lady appeared. The exact same young lady as the one painted on the portrait in her room. Who was she?

Looking at the other half of the locket she could see words. If only she knew how to read and write. Since she was too poor to attend school, she never learned how to do so and it always upset her because she had heard how beautiful stories and books were. How they could take you on journeys and adventures that would be impossible for a simple peasant to do so.

She sighed heavily and looked sadly upon the locket having a mixed feeling of God knows what. Jeanne then shoved the locket into a pocket in the robe and stumbled out of the room. She cautiously stepped down the stairs and left the secret room, placing the crucifix back on the desk properly in order to close the door.

As she walked slowly to the door, it was opened lazily.

Jeanne shut her eyes tightly and gasped; preparing to begin crying for she knew she would get in deep trouble.

"Jeanne?" The French voice was familiar and quite confused.

Jeanne opened her eyes to see a puzzled Francis. His blond eyebrows furrowed above his blue eyes and his head tilted to his right; a little frown forming upon his lips. "What are you doing here?" He mumbled.

"I-I-I..." Jeanne fumbled for an excuse. "I w-was going to get a drink of water but when I reached the kitchen, everyone was preparing dinner. I didn't want to interrupt so I came back upstairs and thinking this was my room, I entered. But since it was not I turned to leave and you came in..." She played with her hands slightly.

"Ah, would you like me to take you back to your chambers, or would you rather stay here?" He flirted a little, winking at the end.

Jeanne turned a deep crimson and shook her blonde head. "I-I would l-like t-to return to my chambers, your grace."

Francis chuckled slightly and nodded. "Alright then, follow me dear." He beckoned as he left the room.

Jeanne mumbled a 'forgive me' up to the heavens for slightly lying, then continued after the blond male.

Upon reaching her room, they both entered and Francis spotted Jeanne glancing at the portrait.

"Francis..." Jeanne began.

"Yes my dear?" He smiled.

"Who is that lady in the picture?" Jeanne decided to ask as she sat on the bed.

Francis walked to her and sat right next to her, their thighs touching. He sighed loudly and looked at the portrait himself.

"She is my betrothed. She's spending three months in Spain with her family and is coming back in around two."

"Your fiancée? She's beautiful. No wonder you love her."

"It was actually an arranged marriage. We've been best friends since we were children, although she had to turn more ladylike, we did lots of stuff together. Then they had told us that we were engaged, and we had to comply." Francis explained.

"Ah, so you don't love her?" Jeanne mumbled.

"It's not that I don't love her. I love her very much. She and I have gone through a lot together. I really appreciate and adore her. She has been with me through many tough times in my life and she is amazing for that. She has never actually left my side..."

"She sounds really lovely."

"Oh but she is! Other than being a total beauty, she's extremely sweet and nice, although people might see that as a flaw. She's very understanding and oh so caring. Her smile one of the brightest, her lips some of the softest, she is incredible."

"You really love her, non?"

"Yes, I guess I do... But I feel like I am also starting to fancy someone else..." Francis blushed slightly.

"Someone else?" Jeanne raised a blond eyebrow, oh wasn't this complicated.

"I recently met her, so I am not exactly sure if I do or if I don't. But she's lovely as well. She hasn't smiled yet, so I can not compare her smile to that of Isabel, but I'm almost completely sure that they both have exceptional smiles. But either way, I really fancy the other." His blue orbs were fixated on the wall in front of them as he bragged on about his new found love.

"Whom ever you choose will not let you down, they both sound lovely. But the new one hasn't smiled... I don't think that's a good sign. I suggest you stay with your Fiancée." Jeanne gave him advice.

"It's not that she doesn't smile, it is that she has nothing to smile about, for her life is not in the right state." Francis reasoned.

"Then you'll have to make her smile and see who the one for you is. But I don't want your fiancée to be alone so it is best that you put her needs first."

"Isabel is always selfless. She has no needs and if she did she would not tell."

"Think hard, I am not in your situation so I won't say much, but you have known your fiancée for so long, your entire life in fact. And you've only known this other lady for a little while. You don't even know her intentions. If I was in your shoes, I would trust your fiancée more until I knew who this lady was." Jeanne smiled, giving him a reason to trust her.

"Thank you Jeanne, you've been much help, dear. You're a real beauty." He said as he stood and kissed her forehead. "I'm glad that you are by my side."

Jeanne blushed a deep crimson as he had finished and nodded lightly. "Y-you're welc-come?" She managed to stutter something out.

Francis chuckled a little; she was too cute for words. Oh dear Lord.

"Well, dear, until the morrow. Oh no, actually until dinner time, I'll see you there." He winked and blew her a kiss as he left the room, it was natural for him to flirt with girls, but Jeanne knew nothing of it.

Walking back to his room, he smiled. He was going to enter the secret room before he decided to take a look around and check if Jeanne had pushed something off the shelves or anything, not that he cared.

After not finding anything, he proceeded into sitting down on his bed. There was nothing he really needed to do at the moment, since his investigator was trying to figure out the incident. Thus, out of boredom, he was going to practice his violin where no one could hear him.

There was a reason as to why he had a secret room in the first place. He loved to escape from the world every now and then, whether it was to play music or to write to his betrothed. He felt more at peace with himself if he was far from his problems an only thought about the three essentials of his life; Faith, Love and Music.

Moving the crucifix slowly, he entered the hallway with a candle and carefully ascended the stairs.

Finally reaching the room, he entered and picked up his violin. What was he going to play? Possibly just make up a composition on the spot… yes; that could work.

Lightly letting his fingers touch the strings he began to think; what was going to happen to Jeanne? He did not want to kick her out of his estate at all. If he did, where would she go? Her family was dead, her village was destroyed, and her hope was probably shattered as well. But with his fiancée coming home soon, he was unsure if she would accept a stranger into their home.

Deciding on finally playing, he began by mimicking something he had heard in the tavern the other day. It was a rather simple melody, where little note changes occurred and practically no thrilling beats. Only by slowing the melody down, he was able to make the song seem depressing and not really up beat and happy go lucky as it once was.

His playing slowed down even more so that the music died down. Francis adored the music that people made, but he loved altering it more than anything. He could twist the notes to his hearts content and he liked that.

The following week, Jeanne was able to walk and speak properly, of which was when he noticed that the peasant girl was not able to read or write. Of course this was all too surprising for him for her French was near perfect. Despite her slight country accent, and forgetfulness, her French was extraordinary. After finding out her little secret, he wished to help her with learning, since she was still rather young, she could learn quite fast. He started with the alphabet. Then dictated a sentence in which she would write down after he was finished. And within a month and half she had done rather well. He also learnt that Jeanne only knew how to write in Latin; and only the prayers at that.

"Well, thus far you are doing exceptionally well, ma chérie." Francis smiled brightly as they walked in the gardens of his manor.

"Merci." She smiled; her walk still a little wobbly and some bruises still remained.

In all honesty, Francis was getting quite worried, for her bruises were not yet completely gone, and some scars still covered her skin.

"How are you doing nowadays? Are you recalling anything from your past?" Francis sat down on a stone bench and patted the seat next to him, calling her to sit next to him.

Jeanne shook her head and stood in front of him, she did not fancy seating at this time; the sun was high up in the sky and a soft breeze kissed the trees, the leaves swayed back and forth passing on secrets and whispering to one another.

"I have not recalled anything yet..." She mumbled, of course she lied. She had actually recalled quite a lot of things. Starting with who her family was and what had happened for her to be the only to survive from her village. In reality, she remembered almost everything, but she refrained from telling Francis for she knew he would get protective over the matter.

"Oh... I was really hoping you would, for I want to know what occurred with your village." He sighed loudly. This was getting quite frustrating and it wasn't going to get better any time soon.

"I'm sorry; it is only that nothing has been able to restore my memory."

"No, do not fret; I do not mind waiting a little longer."

Jeanne smiled down at him and decided to finally sit next to him and thought for a little while. Sooner or later she would have to tell him, but right now wasn't the best time.

"Sir, there is someone here to see you." A soldier had finally found them after hearing they were in the gardens.

"Whom?" Francis stood from the bench and questioned the soldier.

"D'Alençon, sir."

"Oh, alright then. Jeanne, wait here for a little while, possibly it would only take seconds anyways." He smiled.

Jeanne smiled and nodded at the Frenchman, after her approval, she watched him walk away with the soldier and disappear into the Manor.

Looking back up the sky, she thought about how beautiful the day was. Yet as she thought about the beauty, the emptiness came to mind.

"Jeanne." She was snapped back to reality by Francis' voice.

Jeanne shook her head as if to push her memories aside. She searched around for the young man and finally found him as he came with another man trailing along.

"Francis." She stood.

"This is my cousin, Jean d'Alençon." He stated.

"Hello, Jeanne d'Arc." The man went to bow but Jeanne had beaten him to it.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, duc." She stated.

As she lifted her head to meet him once more, a smile was evident on his light handsome features.

"And it is most certainly a great pleasure to meet you. Believe it or not, my little cousin here has been talking about you non-stop. Sending me letters every other day telling me how you have been doing. It's rather sweet if you ask me, he's getting his mind off of the war because he has found a sweet girl to take care of. So I really should be in your dept for that." D'Alençon spoke.

"He has? Oh my, I'm rather flattered." She giggled as a blush grew on her cheeks.

"Well, you seem rather important to him. I do not blame him for you are a rather beautiful young lady." The duke laughed.

"Thank you very much." Jeanne blushed even deeper.

"To be frank, why did you even agree to stay with a loser like my cousin, darling?"

Jeanne giggled catching the tease and shrugged. "Who else might have wanted to take me in, if it were not for your dear cousin, mon duc?"

"Well, I feel that I would be a better choice, do you not agree?"

Jeanne smiled brightly. "I'm not quite sure." She giggled seeing that Jean and Francis were not too different with their charms.

"Yes, that is all too amusing as I am standing before you both..." Francis sighed loudly seeing as they were not only talking about him, but flirting as well.

"Ah yes, I was caught up in her beauty so much that I had forgotten you were even present." D'Alençon shot a smug look at Francis, knowing that Jeanne was blushing by now.

"Let us head back inside, no Jeanne?" Francis ignored his cousin.

"Ah yes..." Jeanne nodded, although she did want to remain out side for a little while longer for she really adored the beautiful nature that engulfed her.

"Then off we go." Francis smiled and made hand in to a soft fist hovering over the bottom of his chest so that she would hook her arm around his; of which she did.

"Jeanne, do wish to take a drink with me? I would be honoured to have a goblet of wine with you, my dear." D'Alençon smiled after they had finished dinner.

The day had gone so fast after they had entered the manor and heard the band play some songs as they discussed stories of their life; some that Jeanne did not tell because she did not remember.

"Well, it is getting rather late and I am afraid that I must go to bed." Jeanne smiled sorrowfully. "Although I would really want to, I am too tired, and I must get my bandages changed as well as take a bath. A girl must go through many preparations before going to bed, and I must fulfil those if I am going to live in this manor for a little while longer until I recover in order to even begin to repay Francis for his amazing hospitality and generosity."

"Oh, alright then. Until the morrow, my dear." Jean d'Alençon stood, and as did Francis as she also stood to leave.

"Until the morrow." She nodded and with that, exited the room and ascended the stairs.

There had been a long silence between the two males as they gazed at one another waiting for the other to say some thing.

"Well," They both simultaneously spoke.

"The guest shall speak first." Francis smiled.

"Oh little cousin of mine, why are you being so formal? Je suis ton cousin, pourquoi est-ce que tu ne me parle comme si je suis ça?"

"Parce que, c'est ça. We are royalty, we should act so." Francis sighed.

It had only been until recently that he had started to act so, the dauphin had gotten rather disappointed with his informality in front of officials that he had become so upset as to stop all informality.

"You're starting to sound like Charles..." Jean smiled sadly. He liked his younger cousin being the flirt and idiot of the group. The one who always kept happy and never let anyone down, but after something had happened, Jean knew that Francis was not being formal on his own account.

"Is that meant to be an insult, Jean?"

"Not the slightest... I am simply speaking my mind." Jean always spoke what was on his mind, but he was always in good thoughts and thus his words were always kind. Since he also thought of Francis like his younger brother, he always wanted to protect him from things, and he considered a change of personality a threat.

"Jeanne is rather nice."

"Yes, it is in her nature."

"Listen little cousin, she's a very pretty and pure girl, but there is something she's keeping from you for your own good. When you find out what it is, as I myself do not know, do not become angry with her. She wishes for you to rest easy..."

"What do you mean?"

"Since she appreciates your hospitality, she wants to make things up to you by not letting you know much about her..."

"I guess so, but she should not be afraid to tell me anything." Francis took a sip of his wine.

"She is not afraid, she is protecting you. And I feel that is a good thing. When Isabel comes around, introduce them and let them talk, I'm sure they will get along rather lovely." Jean smiled softly. "Anyhow, I should be off, I must be in Chinon in and around four days..."

"Alright. Have a good evening, and Bon Chance avec son voyage."

It was quite late when he had left but it was better to leave at this time rather than in the morning hours for he would be late for his meeting with the dauphin.

After his leave, at midnight, around possibly 3 in the morning, Jeanne had descended the stairs once more yet this time she was not conscious.

Her figure made its way to the grand hall, and there she sat right in the middle of it and began to tell a story.

The story was about a young girl of which sat in the middle of a field of tall lilies, her hair was long and golden, and her eyes a sweet sapphire shade. She was rather young, but very hard working. She would help her mother with house chores and help her father with the harvest; which was the reason to her golden tan that covered her freckles certain times of the year.

But as she sat in the middle of that lily field to relax, there was a horrendous sound and the lilies all ironically transformed into men of the French army, and the beautiful field was now a battle field.

Birds were replaced with arrows and water was replaced with blood and sweat. Tweeting birds and the summer breeze were now clashing swords and cries of men.

The girl looked down at her form to see her white dress replaced with bloody armour, her hair cut short, and her heart had sunk. She felt rather mature for her age and as if she carried the world on her shoulders.

Her smile was turned into a line in order to not demonstrate all her feelings for this sudden change.

"That is the story of a young girl named Jeannette d'Arc; that is her fate..." That was how Jeanne herself had ended the story.

By now, a couple of people had gathered by the doorway to hear her lovely worded story.

"Jeanne?" The voice of her saviour came from within the crowd.

Her voice had been loud yet gentle, everyone in the household had heard her but it was a disrupting voice, it was tender.

"That is Jeannette d'Arc's fate." She stood but her voice all in different tones, and not her own, yet the voice was still gentle and full of love, there was nothing wrong with it. The voice was divine and oh so loving.

"Jeanne?" The man repeated her name for he knew what had just occurred.

"Jeannette is a daughter of God, and she shall be great." The young lady's mouth moved but it still was not her voice. "Take care of God's chosen one until it is time." And with that, the lovely voice had ceased to exist.

The lights had flickered as a dash of warm air had hit them.

By now, when everyone had finally focused on the girl, she was on the floor, neatly sleeping in serenity. Her figure so neatly placed as if a mother had slowly put her down, making sure not ti harm her.

"Jeanne..." Francis hurried to her quickly, wishing to wake her to see if she were fine and by no means harmed.

"Jeanne," he shook her lightly, "Jeanne..."

Her blue orbs slowly opened with patience. The ocean within them awoke so tenderly that it seemed as if the waves were softly caressing the sand that was her soft skin.

"Jeanne..." He whispered softly for he was relieved that she opened her eyes.

"Why am I here?" She looked up at him, her orbs half lidded with a dumbfound and tired expression, one which made a certain Frenchman uneasy for he believed she looked divine.

"How about we take you to your room, you'd really want that. We can talk about it tomorrow, okay?" His voice was so gentle that it made her fall deep asleep with seconds of his statement.

Francis stood from the floor with the sleeping girl in his arms and stepped out of the grand room and dismissed everyone as he went to take the beauty to her chambers.

"You are rather strange. I do not understand as to why I have even kept you. You seem like an enormous trouble because of these little things that have been occurring around this castle.

"Not to mention, you seem to keep hiding something from me and either that has to do with that voice or your past, or possibly both." Francis had finally entered his chambers.

He laid her upon his bed and covered her with the sheets so that she would not get cold. Instead of sleeping, he hurried into his secret room and onto the desk.

He needed to keep track of these things, there was no way that he would let this go. His hand hurried for the quill as he grabbed his journal and began to write down all that had occurred both that day and evening.

He remained in this chamber for the rest of the night both writing a letter to Isabel and his journal.

The sky had begun to lighten up when he noticed what time it truly was, causing him to yawn in exhaustion and stretch a couple of times.

He came to his senses when he had finally looked at the rising sun, and thus he rubbed his eyes and stood from the leather seat.

He carefully and quietly made his way out of the secret chamber and slipped into his room.

Noting that a certain female had remained sleeping in his bed, he couldn't help but form a slight smile with his lips.

Her long blond strands spread themselves over the pillow so swiftly, her eyes so tenderly closed and her lips slightly parted. If it weren't for the fact that he knew she wasn't, he could have believed she was an angel.

He looked down at the floor and thought of Isabel, she was just as lovely as the girl (possibly even lovelier at times). Unlike Jeanne, Isabel had her body well developed already, making her curves more appealing to the eye, her long brown hair reached up to her waist but it was always brought up in different styles, while her piercing green eyes had always been shiny.

The Spaniard had lots of knowledge and love for the French language but she still possessed quite a Spanish accent.

Francis walked out of the room after changing into his riding clothes and fixing himself to look as handsome as possible. The Frenchman had a rather strong passion for fashion. He loved the newest fad, or the newest style to be a hit. Pop-y colours always seemed to be liked by everyone, and Francis was one of those people. Therefore, his riding clothes were very top-notch snobbish clothing.

The jacket was red polyester as his pants were black, having a some sort of poof at his thighs, and finally black riding boots. In all honesty, the man could look great in anything he wore, whether it was peasant clothing or clothing for a king. Even without anything on the man was handsome.

"Nurse!" Francis called as he descended the stairs, yawning afterwards.

Seconds later, his nurse came within view and he smiled.

"Jeanne is in my room, make sure none of the maids get to her before you do. Take her to her respective chambers and let her sleep a while longer." Francis explained his wishes.

"Yes, milord." His nurse bowed and proceeded to his chambers as Francis went the opposite way in order to reach the stables quickly.

* * *

 


	2. Whispers in Court as the House Speaks

"D'Alençon says there's a little girl in the Bonnefoy Manor." Caroline, one of the Dauphine's ladies-in-waiting, stated as she popped a Cherry in her mouth.

"A little girl?" Another questioned, nipping at the cupcake in her hands, already knowing the entire story.

"Not really little; she is sixteen. But apparently a total angel." Caroline replied.

"As in does everything she is told, or in beauty?" An Auburn-haired Scotswoman asked.

"Both." Another cherry into Caroline's mouth.

"But I doubt she is as lovely as her majesty." Lynette, the one with the cupcake, spoke.

"Apparently as lovely as Isabel, Francis' fiancée."

"Oh please, no one is as beautiful as her." The Dauphine, Marie of Anjou, remarked.

"No, you are." Morgana, the Scotswoman, acknowledged.

"You're my friends; you're bound to say that. Isabel is way lovelier than I'll ever be and that is the truth."

"But the duc says that she is as lovely as Isabel." Caroline continued.

"So how did Francis even decide to take care of that girl?" Lynette inquired.

"She's a peasant."

"A peasant?" The Scotswoman laughed.

"Oh yes a peasant." Caroline nodded.

"Caroline, please. Why would Francis swoop as low to a peasant?" Morgana couldn't help but marvel.

"But she is!" Caroline chimed.

"A peasant shouldn't be that lovely. They don't have the necessary things." Lynette almost hissed for her disbelief was rather large.

"Plus we all know how much of a player Francis is. Even Isabel is aware of his flirtatious nature." Morgana butt in once more. "Do you not think that Francis will play her, like he did to us all, Marie?" Her Auburn head turned to the Queen-to-be.

"Well, I am not to say anything of that at all. He might have played you all, but you should have not gotten your hopes up so high as you did. He is an engaged man after all; and has been so since he was eight. Plus, you all said that Isabel is lovelier than anyone and why would he change her then?" The blonde glanced at the Morgana.

"Marie, we were all young and naïve at some point, leave us be." Lynette laughed.

"Might have been so, but you must think, A royal? If a royal wishes to wed, then it must be to a person that benefits their family and status, not someone that they would possibly fall in love with."

"Of course... But he should still not act as if there wasn't anything between us." Lynette huffed.

"Would you prefer Isabel to scold you then?" Marie raised an eyebrow. "Plus, were you not the one that lured him in? If I am not correct, he did not fancy you the slightest."

"Isabel would not tell me off and we all know that, she's way too nice. Plus, we still made love."

"Oh shut up, Lynette. Either way, Francis is her fiancé and she won't stand for any other courtier trying to take him away from her. No one would put up with losing an attractive man like him." Caroline explained.

"Ha, look who's talking, didn't you ask him if you could get married? And what did he say?" Morgana scoffed.

Caroline turned beet red and bit her lip. Despite her burning face, she looked down and mumbled: "He said that she was someone he couldn't leave... Plus that was more than three years ago."

Morgana burst out laughing and couldn't control her unladylike manner. "Who asks a kin to marry them?" She joked.

Caroline glared at Morgana with much hatred.

Now, Morgana was the sarcastic one of the group; always making jokes and acting rather sassy but she was the most fun out of the group. On the other hand, Lynette was the sweetest and nicest out of the group. She was trusting and so lovely, but of course she loved gossip much more than the rest of the group. Caroline was more of a kind yet rude lady. She was very blunt at certain times depending on whom one was. Finally, Marie was a very accepting and gentle lady, very uptight as well.

As the ladies of the court discussed the issues, matters were very similar within the Bonnefoy manor. Through every corner the house there were whispers to be heard as a certain young lady had left her room and headed for the dining room in which she would find breakfast set for her.

"Carla said she saw the nurse guiding her from the master's room to hers the other day." Although she was near, a peasant decided to speak.

"Is that so? What was she doing in the master's chambers?" Another servant inquired.

"Probably having some fun with the master like the whore she is."

"I'd rather you keep your trap shut." Francis' nurse hissed as she pushed past the ladies, making them loose their balance.

The servants scurried away, their faces red and horrified.

"Do you not agree this house is a nuisance?" The elder brunette female walked next to the younger blonde one.

"Pardon me?" Jeanne was taken aback by the sudden question.

"They're all talking about you, and it is honestly getting on my nerves."

"About me? Whatever do you mean?" A blonde eyebrow rose.

"The servants do not like you, is that not obvious already?" The nurse retorted.

Jeanne had not really noticed the people amongst her even talking, but now that she reflected back on the previous days, she had acknowledged that whenever she passed by a group of people, the house would begin to whisper words she could not make out.

"There's a certain girl who is spreading rumours about you."

"A girl?"

"Oh yes, a girl or young lady if you may, but she has something against you."

"What has she said of me?" The pair continued to walk down the long halls of the manor.

"Rude things." The nurse replied.

"What type of rude things?" Jeanne never believed in punishing someone without background knowledge of their mistake.

"That you're a -pardon my language - a whore." The elder lady's face was kept serious with no sign of amusement or disgust in the words chosen for the younger lady.

"A-a wh-" Jeanne stopped herself from swearing as her right hand flew to cover her lips.

"Yes a whore. Of course these are false accusations and you should do with her as you please but be mindful of everything. You still have no right to fire her if that is what your heart desires."

"Why do they wish to humiliate me like such? I am no lady of the night or a hamster at that, yet they make up the most ridiculous stories in order to destroy my self-esteem."

"Servants love to gossip and they adore destroying people's lives as well."

"Who is the girl of which spreads the rumours?" Jeanne obviously wished to know, for she wanted to understand as to why people were so cruel.

"I believe she is in the kitchen. The odd looking one with the big bosom and short stature. Her name is Anne, if I remember well and my old mind is not failing me."

The young blonde hurried to the kitchen to find the girl whom spoke of her so ill. Her long blue dress trailed behind her, sweeping the floor as she passed the many rooms. At this moment, the peasant did not possess shoes for she did not like heels the slightest, instead she was barefooted and quick to descend the stairs.

'Big bosom, short stature, odd looking...' Was all that ran through her mind as she skimmed the many servants.

Her search was over when, like the nurse said, she found the young lady in the kitchen preparing lunch.

"Pardon me, Anne?" Jeanne slowly made her way towards the servant.

"Milady," she bowed slightly, "is there anything you need?"

"You may call me Jeanne or Jeannette... What are you making?"

"We are preparing roasted pork with a side dish of potatoes and some salad. Is there anything you would like specially?"

"No, I'd like to help you." Jeanne smiled truthfully.

"Oh no milady, you should rest." Anne shook her head.

"Jeanne." She corrected.

"Jeanne, please do not trouble yourself."

"Salad it is then." The blonde female nodded and grabbed a knife in her hand as she held a carrot in the other.

Anne was confused and fearful for she knew the female already knew about what she had been saying around the manor.

"Why did you say I was a bad person?" Jeanne mumbled.

Anne immediately dropped the knife from her hands and closed her eyes tightly, preparing for the worst.

"I am not what you wish for me to be. I'm not rude nor evil towards you so please be kind to me as well. I apologize if I have offended you in anyway so please forgive me."

Anne was surprised by Jeanne's words but did not reply or speak until they had finished making lunch.

"Please do not spread hurtful lies..." Was all Jeanne needed to say before she left the kitchen completely.

The young lady made her way back to her chambers and sat on the bed thinking on how her life had passed her by and she could only recall little fragments of such. Of course, these truly did not make her feel any better for her memories were not so great.

"Excuse me, but you wished to take a bath?" The nurse's voice came from the other side of the door. "The bath is ready." She added.

"Thank you Charlotte!" Francis basically stripped and wrapped a towel around his lower half.

"You're welcome, milord." She hummed. Her heel was in mid pivot when the blond male had quickly exited the room and kissed her cheek.

"Happy birthday, my dear Charlotte." He cheered and kissed her other cheek.

"Francis, I prefer you kiss my cheek when you are fully dressed and not in inappropriate garments." She nearly hissed.

"Oh, right." Francis chuckled and let go of his nanny.

"Now hurry yourself and take that bath before the water gets cold, alright?" She smiled.

Francis nodded and kissed her cheek once more in order to gross her out before leaving for the bathroom of which was right across from him.

Charlotte followed him into the room and waited for him to settle in the warm bath. She then proceeded to grabbing a cloth and helping him clean himself.

"You know, Charlotte, you don't have to help me; I'm an adult now." Francis smiled at her.

"I am aware, Francis, but this is what I wish."

"Is it because you love me?"

"Of course, I love you as son, for I could not keep my own..."

"Charles would have really loved you..." Francis looked at his nurse and held her hand in his.

"Would he?" Her brown orbs slightly filled with tears at the thought of her still born.

"He would have loved you as I have loved you." The male kissed her hand and held it against his cheek tightly.

"Thank you, mon cher." She smiled. "Now let us clean that dirty butt of yours, alright?"

"Of course." Francis smiled and began to clean his legs as Charlotte cleaned his back.

"It's a boy." The woman announced.

"Charles." Charlotte smiled so brightly but dropped it when she did not hear the baby cry.

"I am sorry to inform you-"

"No! Please non! Non!" The brunette gripped the sheets upon her knees.

"Your son is not alive."

"Please! No!" She was twenty three at this age. She had difficulty having a child and this was not her first child. A girl had been first, but it was a miscarriage, then came another miscarriage, and finally Charles; her still born.

The lifeless baby was passed to her and she held it tightly in her arms, letting her tears drop upon him.

Her mouth would mumble pleads over and over again and she would not say another word.

"Charlotte, thank you." Francis snapped her out of her trance.

"For what, my dear?" She blinked her tears away and tilted her head.

"For being my mother." He replied with a wide grin across his face.

"I am your nurse not your mother."

"But you are my mother, for when my real mother was not at home you would treat me like one of your own."

"You are rather cheesy are you not?" Charlotte laughed brightly.

"Do you think Charles would have been like me?"

"No," she took a deep breath, "I think he would have been nicer and more educated than you."

"And why is that?" Francis smiled.

"I would have scolded him even more, because I cannot do that with you." Charlotte smiled brighter.

"How was Francis when he was younger?" Jeanne questioned while Charlotte and her walked about the gardens.

"How was he?" Charlotte raised a dark eyebrow.

"As in was he a good boy or-"

"I am aware of what you meant; I was just not sure if that was what you asked."

There was a short silence between the two females as the leaves whispered against one another telling each other secrets of when the trees were younger and more weak. The birds chirped and sang for the spring day was still so young and beautiful.

"He was such a hassle, that boy. Always getting into trouble and making the house a mess. They used to live in court when younger and Isabel loved to play with Jean and Francis. The three of them were the trouble makers of the castle; they used to call them the French drought and the little Spanish earthquake or simply the troublesome Trio.

"The kids would eat everything, they would bring a mini drought and they would even crawl about in the mud and run around the castle making all the maids so angry. On top of that, they would play in the labyrinth in the gardens and anyone who tried to look for them would get lost for a day or two. Finally the secret tunnels in the castle were their favourite place to play all day and sometimes night." She smiled as she spoke of the elder days.

* * *

"Hey! Francis! Jean! Wait for me." The little Spaniard announced as she hurried behind them.

"Hurry! We won't catch the unicorn if you don't keep up!" Francis called back.

"Is that really what you told her? A unicorn?" Jean huffed as they climbed up the forest's hill.

"She wouldn't come otherwise..." Francis reasoned.

"A unicorn? Really?"

"Hey! She said she liked unicorns!"

"I knew that it was a lie! We all know unicorns don't exist, so you should have just said that we were running away!" Isabel's voice came from right next to the boys, causing them to become unbalanced and surprised.

"For the last time, Isa, we are not running away!" Jean rolled his eyes.

"We are merely going on an adventure!" Francis added.

"Adventure?"

"Oh yes! Adventure!" The blond smiled as he clapped his hands while the black haired male shook his head.

"Hurry up or we'll miss it!" Jean hissed.

Isabel hurried up and reached the top of the hill before the boys did, and she did so with such skill that she did not trip over the dead branches or slip due to the mud.

"I guess you sissies should hurry up!" She hollered from the top of the hill.

"Isa!" Francis laughed as he and his cousin hurried up and reached the top of the hill.

The younger girl began to run and as she saw the river, she moved towards the trees that had fallen in order to create a makeshift bridge.

"Don't run so fast!" Jean warned for he knew that the floor was still slippery from the previous day's storm.

"You are just jealous you can't keep up!" Francis laughed as he followed the infanta.

"I am not! Be careful!" He continued after the younger ones.

He was only two years older than Francis, of which was at the time nine, and three older than Isabel, but he was still the wiser one.

A high pitched shriek filled the forest's atmosphere causing the birds to fly away and any animal to scatter far from the site of the children. Jean gasped and glanced at the mortified Francis.

"Jean!" Isabel screamed as she held on to a tree's root so tightly.

Jean hurried towards the girl with Francis close behind.

"Hold on, Isabel." He panted.

"Don't let go!" Francis called for the water had risen due to the rain and she was nearly fully submerged in it.

"I'm trying!" Isabel cried as she gripped the roots tighter.

Jean looked around for a way to help her. The river was still vicious and it would take days for it calm down, plus the storm from the previous day caused many trees to fall and with mud all over the floor they weren't going to have a good support once they found something to pull her up with.

"Hurry!" She cried even louder for her wet and muddy hands were slipping.

"Here!" Jean yelled as he found the solution. There were roots he had cut with his dagger and dropped them so she could grab onto them. "Tighten them around you!"

"I can't!" She retorted.

"Then grab onto them and tighten them around your hands!" Francis added.

She did just that but ever so carefully so that she would not fall into the raging river.

"Ready?" Jean called.

"Ready!" She screamed.

The boys held onto the roots and pulled her up although Francis slipped once but jean was able to hold onto them tightly.

Isabel was a panting mess when she finally reached solid ground. Her dress was torn and soaked not only in water and mud but some blood as well.

"You're bleeding!" Francis gasped and hurried to her quickly. He lifted her dress only to witness a gash on her right leg. "How did that happen?" He questioned.

"A rock in the river..." She mumbled.

"You should have listened to me!" Jean hissed. "Now what will Auntie say?" He referred to Charlotte.

"Let her scold me." Isabel huffed.

Francis was quick to tend to her wound. He used his tunic to wrap around her leg like a bandage and afterwards kissed the top of her forehead. "If we're to wed one day, you must keep alive." He huffed.

"Come on, lovebirds, we've got to hurry before she needs to get her leg amputated." Jean smirked.

"Amputated?" Isabel was mortified.

"Oh shut up, Jean! Don't scare her!" Francis hissed and helped the little girl to her feet. He carried her on his back, not only because of her injury but of her missing both her shoes as well.

The trio had returned to the castle covered in mud from head to toe and some blood depending on whom carried who.

"Where have you all been?" Charlotte was enraged to see the three of them so dirty.

"Help Isabel... She's hurt, please?" Francis pleaded.

"Am I not here for that sole purpose to help you all?" Charlotte smiled and nodded. "Get her on the bench." She pointed towards a bench in the kitchen.

The boys hurried to the bench and let her down. They then sat next to her and watched as Charlotte disinfected and wrapped her wounds properly.

"Just like new." Charlotte smiled and kissed the top of Isabel's head. "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you Auntie Charlotte." They all announced in unison.

"Now you must all get changed and bathed. You all smell disgusting." She scrunched her nose.

"Yes, Auntie Charlotte." The trio smiled and scurried off through the secret passages of the castle.

"But... She needs to prepare our baths!" Francis remembered.

"Oh well! More time to play!" Isabel laughed although she was still limping.

"A bath is what we shall take." Jean announced. "Let's call the other maids, we can play games later."

"Party pooper." Francis huffed.

"But after our bath... We should bloat to Charles about our adventure." Jean smirked.

* * *

**The Story of Francis and Morgana**

"Bonjour milady." The blond flirt had decided to appear before the Scotswoman. When younger, the Scotswoman was much reserved and kept to herself, as always, but she did not ever talk to the others that were her age for she never liked France.

"Bonjour, my lord." She pulled a small smile. She had heard of his flirtatious manner and had been warned about such but she still fancied the young man.

"Lady Morgana, correct?" The handsome young man raised a blond eyebrow.

"Yes, and might you be Francis Bonnefoy?"

"Yes. Indeed I am, my fair maiden." He smiled.

"I've heard my fair share about you, my dear lord."

"Is that so? Well I've heard my fair share about you." Francis cracked a smug smirk.

"And what about me?" She swallowed. In all honesty she had nothing to fear, but the only problem was that anything could be used against her.

"That you are really beautiful, and I see they speak the truth."

Morgana sighed in some relief and returned the small smile. She then continued walking and passed him by.

"Wait, Lady Morgana, I was hoping for us to get to know each other better." Francis caught up to her.

"Well, I know plenty about you already and I bet you know plenty about me." She chuckled catching his flirting.

"But I do not know much of you, and what you may know about me may be false information." He was persistent, and frankly Morgana had nothing else to do and thus she agreed to this little acquaintance.

It had been a while since they had talked but all the more it was better to get acquainted with one another and to let rumours be ruled out.

"They tell me you are of the same kin as the dauphin, is that true?" Morgana asked first as they sat on a bench in the castle's botanical gardens.

"Yes, I'm a cousin of the dauphin, but please treat me like an equal." Francis replied.

"So do you have a proper tittle like duke of...?" She understood his request and nodded.

"Prince of the blood Duc d'Alsace et Lorraine." He smiled slightly as the lady next to him was playing with her dress.

"Oh, that is rather interesting, mon duc." She chuckled half-heartedly.

"Either way, what about you, my dear, a duchess or noble of any sort?"

"Not really, my father is a duke but enough about my father we don't need to focus on him, how about my life in the French court? It is only appropriate since I have lived here my entire life."

"Alright then, how old are you?"

"Sixteen and you, my lord?"

"Seventeen." He laughed and sat back on his seat. "Would you like to join me in a picnic tomorrow at noon?"

The Scotswoman thought about the pros and cons of being with Francis, but seeing as gossip was gossip she shrugged it off and decided to spend the day with the notorious flirt.

"That sounds rather promising, my lord." Morgana nodded yet she did not truthfully smile.

"Then it's settled; we meet each other at noon in the stables, I will prepare everything and all you need to do is show up, alright my love?" He shot her another smile.

"Alright." She noted as she gave another nod in approval.

The following day, at noon, Morgana made her way to the stables; wearing a casual sundress and a simple blue cloak to keep her warm for when the sun hid behind the clouds. She entered the stables, careful not to step on horse droppings.

"There you are!" Francis smiled and offered her a hand as he led her to a horse. "We'll have our picnic by the river, is that alright with you?"

"I couldn't be so satisfied." She stated, her lips remaining a straight line but her voice held some sweetness.

"Alright then... Let us carry on." He helped her atop her horse and mounted his own, and with that, they hurried off to the river.

Upon reaching the little river, Francis dismounted his stallion and hurried to help the beauty out of hers. After doing so, he had set up the picnic and led her to sit.

"The day is lovely." She smiled at him.

"Yes, indeed it is." Francis smiled back at her.

"Say, I wonder why you chose today..." She mumbled.

"No real reason." The young man shrugged.

"Are you positive?" She sighed. "Does it have to do with the dauphin on a hunting trip?" Her dark eyebrow rose.

"The dauphin? Why would it involve him?" Francis laughed.

"Alright, then why else today?"

"Because I wish to get to know you. You seem like you are very much worth my time."

"Worth your time? Does this mean I'm some sort of amusement, my good sir?" She smiled brighter, meaning to tease him.

"Frankly, you are the only person that catches my eye in court. Everyone else is... How do you say, boring?"

"Is it because I'm Scottish?" She laughed a good amount.

"Possibly... Wine?" He offered as they had begun to eat their food that Francis had prepared himself.

"Yes please," she offered her goblet, "thank you."

"Now, lady Morgana, do you find me interesting?" Francis inquired.

"Very much, yes."

"How so?"

"You're quite the flirt, but you always amaze me in what you say." She sipped at her rich sweet wine.

"Thank you?" He laughed.

"Now you tell me, what is it that, truly, attracts you to me?"

"Not only are you beautiful, but also that you are nothing like the French courtiers. All the women here are fools." He looked up at the sky; the leaves above him filtered the sunlight so beautifully that it made him smile.

"Fools? And why is that?" Another sip.

"All they do is gossip, and it is honestly annoying." He sighed heavily.

"And you believe that I do not gossip?" She asked after she had finished her wine.

"To me, it seems that you care little for such futile things." He sighed loudly.

"Futile? Part of a French girl's personality is to gossip, but you are correct, I could only care less for gossip, for I am not French." Morgana played with her sundress.

"Yes, exactly, and maybe that is why I fancy you."

"Possibly." She licked her lips in order to savour the remaining wine that lingered there.

"It is." The Frenchman smirked as he leaned closer to her.

"Is it?" Her smile grew as she leaned towards him as well.

"Yes, it is." He now whispered.

"Then that is not very flirtatious of you." She pulled away for they were about to kiss.

Francis could have grunted but he refrained for he knew it was improper of a man from the same kin as the future king of France. He smiled despite almost winning her but he knew she was going to be a hard meal from the very beginning. Not only was this lady sassy but she was not the slightest bit French and thus would not fall in love so easily as all his others had.

"Forgive me..." Francis mumbled.

"Oh no worries, I understand that you fancy me, I'm just upset to say I do not feel the same about you..." She smirked.

"And why is that, milady?" Francis inquired, looking her in the eyes.

"There are many things that I do not like about you." She was very blunt.

"Like what?" The man was eager to hear her complaints.

"You reek of wine, and not only are you seventeen, but you are way too... I don't know how to put it..."

"Wine? I reek of wine? Are we not drinking wine?" He was way too offended for his own good.

"Really? I did not notice that." She scoffed. "I mean all the time, whenever I'm near you, all I smell is wine. And you act as if you were a man whore."

"A what?" His eyes grew wide.

"A man whore." She laughed.

"Because I am a flirt?" He questioned.

"Could be," her smile remained, "but I appreciate your boldness."

"Thank you?"

"You are very welcome."

They continued to laugh and talk for a couple of more hours until they had decided that it was late enough and they should have been heading back to the castle.

"I had much fun, merci beaucoup, Francis; this is the most fun I have had since I was a child." Morgana smiled his way.

"No, thank you milady for accompanying me, I am glad that you enjoyed yourself, ma Cherie." Francis smiled in return.

"Thank you." She repeated and once they had arrived at the castle she had given him a peck on cheek. "Let us just be friends, I really enjoy your company, but I think that the Spanish infanta deserves a good man, and you can be that good man if you simply try, so please be her good man."

Francis looked at her and smiled. "No girl has ever said that... So thank you." He surprised that she had given him advice with his future wife.

Francis quickly stole a small kiss from her lips and gave her an even brighter smile. "Friends could work." He chuckled as Morgana blushed.

* * *

**The Young Trio**

"When are we going on our next adventure?" Isabel chirped as the boys played about with their toy swords.

"It was because" -a grunt -"of you that we are locked" -another grunt as he swung his sword at Francis -"in this rat hole." Jean huffed loudly.

Francis continued to fight the elder male with his wooden sword, trying his best to strike him.

"But did you forget about the secret passage ways?" She smiled at him.

"Yes, but our passage has been locked, do you not remember?" He smirked and shook his head at her stupidity and blocked Francis' attack.

"Oh yes, but," it was her turn to smirk, "a little friend of mine got the key." She raised her eyebrows at him as she walked towards Francis and pulled out some keys from his pocket before leaning on the French male.

Jean couldn't help but smile; he dropped his toy sword and began to laugh as he gave them both a pat on the shoulder. "I forgot how much I love you."

"So adventure it is." Francis laughed as he took the keys from Isabel and hurried towards the fake wall panel and moved the painting ever so slightly to insert the key and open the passage ways.

Jean and Isabel hurried after the blond male as he had ran into the tunnel, another adventure it would truly be, because it was said that the passage ways were haunted by the ghosts of the past.

* * *

**The Not So Happy Tale of Lynette and Francis**

"We sure find ourselves in a quite awkward situation." Francis laughed from above her.

"We sure do." The blonde lady giggled nervously from below him.

It was a strange process of how it had even happened in the beginning. They were normally talking about the weather or something of the sort when the lady had tripped and fell on him, startling him and making them both fall to the floor.

"Sorry, but are you alright?" He smiled brightly and rolled off of her.

Lynette loved the warm grass but it was better to stand and not make a fool of herself before the handsome male. "Yes, I am, thank you very much." Her smile brightened as she was helped to her feet by him.

"I apologize for that." Francis bowed before her.

"Oh, my lord, do not fret." She landed a hand on his shoulder, signalling for him to stand.

Francis got on his feet and smiled at her. "Well... I should be off to the races, the Dauphin is expecting me, and we all know how he gets when mad."

"The races?" A blond eyebrow rose. "I how I wished to go, but my friends were being too stubborn and did not wish to accompany me the slightest." She huffed loudly.

"And why is that?" Francis tilted his head.

"They say that the races are just for male and a lady should not dare be seen in one."

"I highly doubt that, there are many ladies there, one being the lady Morgana for sure." He pursed his lips together after speaking.

The sun was high up in the sky and he was going to be late if he did not hurry, in addition he was one of the contestants after all.

"The lady Morgana? Are you positive?" Lynette was somewhat horrified.

"Here, let me show you." He hurried down the hill, pulling her down as well. They flew down the steps to the bottom of the hill and out to the arena at the bottom of the Chinon castle.

"Why are we running?" She panted, although her worries were in her shoes for one had slipped off and she was limping.

"I have to be there in less than a minute!" Francis stated right as they arrived at the gates of the arena. "I wish I could take you all the way there, but it seems that I cannot for I have to compete." He smirked.

Lynette smiled brightly and removed the ribbon from her hair. "I want you to wear my colours." She offered the blue ribbon up to him.

"That is truly very kind of you, milady. I shall wear it." He smirked as she tied it around his right arm in a perfect bow.

Francis hurried to the preparation room and dressed himself. Lynette seemed like a meal for now.

"I welcome you all to the 30th horse race that this town has held. Please, a hand for our contestants!" The Dauphin smiled at the crowed, his eye catching Francis' mischievous smirk, allowing him to witness that the young male had yet another girl in mind. "May the most skilled rider win!" He proclaimed as the crowd roared.

Francis waved at the crowd and laughed as they went crazy. He was first up with his black stallion and against some man of the southern border. Their horses neighed and huffed and the race was rather close but Francis won. You might think that it all depends on the horse in order to win the race, but that is a lie at heart. The trainer must train, feed, and care for his horse, this results in the horse building trust with its rider and being able to run its full capacity, wishing to please its master for all he's done. The horse depends in the rider to guide it and to lead it to victory and therefore both the horse and the rider have as much right to win.

Francis really loved to race and he was always happy to ride his horse. From when he was a child, he loved adventure and being on a horse made him feel like some sort of conqueror, as if he had just discovered a foreign land and he would be able to get lost in it for years and years.

"You were amazing." Lynette smiled up at him. She was truly taken away by his skill and she wanted to thank him for wearing her ribbon.

"Why thank you, my lady." He smiled for he was already in the quarter finals and would be competing again the following day.

"Thank you," she kissed his cheek, "for wearing my colours."

Francis pecked her cheek in return and held onto her hand. "Thank you for allowing me to wear them."

Lynette giggled and hardened her grip on his hand slightly, making sure she wouldn't leave him. "I've been watching you, and well... I really fancy you, Francis."

How the tables have turned, the girl was the one wanting to court him in the first place. Was it possible that in the morning, as he hurried to the races, when she tripped it was no accident, was it?

"Is that true, now?" The Frenchman smiled.

"Oh yes, that is quite true." Her smile grew as she played with a lock of his long blond hair.

"And why is that?"

"I actually do not know, I just really admire your beauty and well your smile, it makes me want to smile as well." She mumbled.

"You are very confident, are you not?" Francis placed his hands on her waist lightly.

"Well, I had been waiting for the right to time to tell you... and when is it better than now?" She batted her eyes up at him.

"That is right; there is no time like the present after all, my dear."

"You could not be more correct." She lightly bit her lower lip with rather suggestive eyes staring him down.

"Francis!" A voice yelled and Francis could have sighed in relief out loud but he smiled sorrowfully at her and kissed her cheek.

"I must be off; the duke calls." He winked as he hurried off to his cousin.

Lynette grunted and waved him off. "Alright, see you around, sire." She called after him.

"Thank the Lord you came along." Francis gave his cousin a pat on the back.

"I saw you struggling there, and I thought you really were in need of my help. Plus, I did promise our little Spaniard that I would keep you true to her, of which I could not since I had been gone for ages." Jean spoke jokingly but his statement held truth.

"How is she doing anyways?" Francis wished to change the subject of him sleeping with anything that moved, except for Morgana, of which he was completely and utterly fine with.

"Do you not send her letters?" Jean questioned as they began to walk toward the castle.

"You know exactly what happened before she left..." Francis followed behind him.

"And what? Are you not going to do anything about it? You are still to marry her anyway."

"Yes, but I cannot see the right time to explain things to her."

"Really? Because all I see is that you keep doing things to push her away rather than bringing her closer to you." Jean huffed.

"It is not that simple, Jean."

"It is. You should at least start to strengthen your relationship with her because either you will love her for the rest of your life or you will marry your worst enemy and, God forbid, you will end up killing one another."

"I do not hate her the slightest, and you know that, I just cannot bring myself to tell her..."

"Just start to converse with her, because we all know she'll be here soon enough."

"When?" The blond's eyes grew wide.

"I am not quite sure, but I overheard Charles talking about her, so fix it." Jean continued to walk as Francis stopped in his tracks and sighed loudly.

Francis stood still and looked down at the town that remained at the bottom of the hill. He really did care for the infanta quite a lot, but due to his last run-in with her, he knew their relationship was on ice at the moment, and if he did anything wrong he knew that he would fall to hell without her.

"Francis!" Another voice called as he made his way into the castle, trying to avoid others.

Francis looked back to see Lynette and sighed loudly, he wasn't feeling up to 'playing' at the moment, and he knew Lynette was.

"Hello, My lady." He bowed his head slightly.

"Come with me, I have to show you something." She smirked and dragged him down the hall and into the room, ignoring the protests and excuses of the male.

"Why did you bring me here?" He questioned.

"I saw that you were feeling a bit down, so I want to cheer you up." She stated as she removed her dress, standing before him in her bloomers and corset.

"I am not certain, what type of image I gave off, and I apologize for that, because I am certainly not looking for this." Francis gulped.

"We both know you do." She walked towards him slowly.

"No I do not, now I would appreciate it if you will excuse me." He stated bluntly and turned to leave.

Sadly, to no avail did he leave the room, the blonde woman grabbed his wrist and held him back. "Just for one night, it is not as if anyone would find out, anyways." She whispered as she wrapped her arm around his torso to begin removing his shirt button by button.

The following day, Francis awoke in a foreign room, a light body placed slightly on top of him and slightly above him. He opened his eyes and sat up quickly, startling the other person that was on the bed with him.

"Francis?" She yawned loudly.

"Oh my dear Lord..." Francis gasped as he tumbled out of the bed. "This was not supposed to happen."

"Francis... Please, don't say that; we had a good time."

"No, no, no, it did not happen. I am sorry but that was truly a mistake." He stated as he collected his clothes from the floor.

"Francis..."

"The races..." He made an excuse to leave as he dressed himself.

"Will you wear my colours?" She remained on the bed, covering herself with the sheets.

"No, I will not." He replied and found his keys, of which he opened a panel in her room and locked the door behind him. It came in handy how he knew the passage ways very well since he was a child, and he knew exactly how to get to his room from any chamber in the palace. There was no way he would let anyone find out about this at all. And he would never open that panel for a very long time of which hopefully was never.

Arriving in his chambers he hurried to his bed and sat down. If he was going to prepare for the races, he was to do so now. And thus he prepared.

"Welcome, my people, I have decided," the Dauphin began as the eight riders filed into the arena, "that I do not really fancy races much, They seem to be a little boring, really... and therefore a sword fighting tournament seemed more fitting."

Francis' sapphire eyes grew side, his smile dropped as the crowd roared once more.

"Now, we all know about our glorious Champion; the Duke Jean d'Alençon, and well his three time opponent; Duke Francis Bonnefoy, but my dear cousin will not be participating in this tournament for it is only for our riders. So, my dear cousin Francis will be able to win this time around, will you not?" Charles gave him a sly smile.

Francis kept his face emotionless because he knew how cruel his cousin could be when Francis did something to disappoint him.

"The rules are simple; any weapons may be used, and it will not be to the death. Let the best Warrior win!" The Dauphin smiled as the riders were let out of the arena in order to armour them. "And may the Lord, or God, bless you all!"

Francis was up first and his opponent was definitely not an easy one for not only was he a rider, but a knight as well. The man chose a mace as his weapon and of course a shield to protect himself from Francis' attacks. Yet, the blond male wielded a sword in his right hand and a shield as well on the other.

Rotating his right wrist to demonstrate his skill and warm up his muscles, Francis stared the other man down. A bell was rung and the males began circling one another.

Noting an opening on the man's left side, Francis attacked. Swinging his sword roughly, he was blocked and a mace came towards him.

' _Step. Step. Block. Step. Swing to the right. The left. Block from above. Step_.' Francis recited in his mind as he performed the actions.

He was quick to react as the opponent swung the mace his way, but all too soon, the young male disarmed him and lightly pressed his sword against the man's neck; earning roars from the crowd.

"Good job." The man smiled and the shook hands as Francis pulled his sword from the man's throat.

"Thank you." Francis smiled at the man. "You did well yourself."

The match was obviously won by Francis and they both filed out of the arena.

Francis blocked the man's attack, clashing their swords against one another. A step backwards was enough space to throw another blow. An opening to the man's right was perfect for hitting him with the hilt of his sword, of which he did and finally Francis won against his other opponent, making the man tumble to the floor.

The large male was all muscle, letting the younger male use simple skills, and ultimately leading to his victory.

The finals were to be held the following day and it was now left to Francis and a female of which he did not know the identity of. Yet she seemed like a worthy opponent.

"Who's colours are you wearing tomorrow, cousin?" Jean caught up to the blond as he went to sharpen his sword for the next fight.

"I have a girl in mind..." Francis sighed, pressing down on the pedal of the grindstone.

"And is she the Lynette girl?" The older of the two rolled his eyes and scoffed loudly.

"No, it is someone I actually care for."

"The lady Morgana is actually quite a good choice." He acknowledged.

"It is not the lady Morgana either."

"Then who's colours are you to wear if it is not the Lady Morgana or Lynette?" Jean was honestly getting a little mad for the blond male seemed to have a new girl on his mind.

"You will see soon enough either way." Francis shrugged.

"She better be worth every second of your life."

"I can bet you my pathetic life that she is worth every single second."

"I hope so." He grunted and left the forge.

Francis remained in the forge thinking about the only person he should have been thinking of the entire duration of his life, but of course things never went as planned and from the darkness of the forge, he spotted movement. "Who goes there?" He called out.

"Lady Morgana." She stepped towards the blond.

"Oh, Hello Morgana." He smiled her way.

"You were amazing out there, but the one you are fighting tomorrow seems like a better fighter, no offence." Morgana sat down next to the male.

"And why is that?" Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Her fighting skills are phenomenal. It seems to me like she had been taught since she was young."

"Maybe her father wanted a son instead." He shrugged.

"It seems so."

"Really?" Francis was sort of offended because what father would want a son instead of a daughter? Only a king really, but surely the female was not royal, or she would have been announced at court and Francis would have become familiar with her.

"Yeah, she seems rather determined to win, in all honesty. It could possibly be to prove a point or to feel like she is worth of becoming an heir in her family, plus she seems of rich descent, her armour would explain it."

"A blue blood?"

"Could be... Or she could also be the daughter of a merchant. Blue blood seems a bit unlikely because I have not encountered a lady with such skill before; I bet you she could beat me in less than two seconds."

"Then maybe she must be a daughter of a merchant..."

"By the way, speaking of ladies, Lynette told me what occurred yesterday evening." Morgana stated. "I do not believe her; we all know how big her mouth is."

"Well... I'm afraid you have to believe her, for what she said is the truth..." Francis admitted as he hung his head in shame.

"Well, you better fix things with her because we know she will not keep it secret for long." Morgana did not dare question any further for she knew it was already not her knowledge to acquire.

"I am just very upset... I did not want to-"

"You do not have to explain because I understand that you do not fancy her the slightest." She saved him the trouble.

"Thank you." Francis brought his gorgeous smile back to his features.

"Either way, are you wearing anyone's colours?"

"Yes, but that is a secret."

"Well, good luck against the woman, you will need it." Morgana stood from the working bench. "Oh, before I forget; get yourself some sleep."

Francis smiled up at her and nodded. "Yes mother, I shall do that." He laughed.

"Alright, good night, and please do go to sleep soon, or you will end up losing the fight, do you understand?"

"Yes mother." He smirked and watched as she left.

Well if he was planning to wear those colours he needed to find that handkerchief soon, and it would be best if he went to do so as soon as possible.

Reaching his room, Francis looked around the room thinking of where he had last left it. That piece of cloth was his lucky charm and he would always win first place when wearing it, of course that was only when Jean was not competing in the fights, and the Dauphin did not disqualify him because he was upset with Francis' behaviour.

Alright, he was going to find that handkerchief no matter where it lay, and he was going to it before noon of the morrow.

Throwing shirts and pants all over the room with no luck, Francis wanted to destroy his room. He searched each cabinet and then his bed. Where had he last placed it? It was not like he threw it away, right?

Then it came to him, he had it hidden in one of the panels of the room, now he just needed to remember which one...

By morning, his room looked as if a tornado had hit it, but nonetheless he was able to find the red and yellow handkerchief that he had in the panel behind his closet, of course after finding rats, money, and a couple of things that he had been missing for years; including his stuffed roster.

He held the thin soft cloth in his hands and smiled gratefully, but sadly he had not acquired any sleep at all and he only had four hours before the tournament would begin. But, as always, he thought sleep was more important and then landed on his bed and feel soundly asleep.

"Oh my Lord, what on earth happened here?!" A voice twitched him awake.

Francis grunted in response and covered his face with the pillow.

"What did you do? Have you finally gone insane?" The voice continued to yell as Francis tried to block the woman's voice from his mind. "Now get up! The match starts in less than ten minutes! Everyone is expecting you!"

Now this awoke Francis in seconds. "Right the match, the match, thank you Charlotte." Francis yawned and shook his head, trying to keep awake.

"What happened here?" The woman questioned as she helped him to get in his armour.

"I was looking for this." Francis smiled as he held up the handkerchief.

Charlotte smiled brightly at him and finished dressing him, handing him his sword she kissed his cheek. "Good luck and I hope that helps you too, alright? Oh and please be careful, do not kill or exert yourself, my dear."

"I promise." Francis replied and kissed her cheek in return. "Well, I'll be off to the tournament now." He announced before racing out of his chambers and the castle to hurry to the arena.

"Oh, we were wondering how long you would keep us waiting." The Dauphin joked and the crowd responded by laughing as Francis entered the Arena.

"Forgive me, sire." Francis knelt.

"Oh, I forgive you, but it is time to fight, is that not correct? Let the best warrior win." Charles smiled at the crowd and sat down at his seat, watching as the warriors took their position; Francis in a ready stance as he put on his helmet and held his sword tightly in his hand. All the while, the woman was already prepared and stood straight and graceful; holding true to her gender.

Francis could only see the female's eyes past her helmet, and for that he felt rather disappointed for he knew many girls with green eyes, starting with Isabel and Ending with a daughter of the Hungarian Royal family; Elizaveta. Plus, Morgana was correct, her armour seemed expensive.

Smiling nonetheless, Francis lifted his sword and waited for the bell, softly tugging on the handkerchief tied to his upper arm.

_Ding, dong._

And the fight began.

They circled around one another as Francis tried to scan her for any weaknesses or disadvantages she had, of which he could not find, and in addition she held great posture for her being no knight.

Sadly, not getting a profile from her, the male lunged his sword forwards, nearly catching her, but missing all together, opening a space for her, of which she obviously took. Her short sword was swung in order to hit his rib cage, but moving ever so slightly, the young male was able to avoid the blow.

He could tell when the lady had tightened her grip around the sword because she easily maneuvered it in order to pull it up and smack it down; luckily Francis brought his shield up to block the blow that was to land on his head. It seemed as if every second that passed by, the female became more and more enraged as Francis dodged her blows.

Seeing as he was doing more defending than attacking, the male caught her sword with his in the space between them, both earning the savouring clinging sound of the swords and a roar from the ever so frivolous crowd.

The female twisted her wrist in order to change the direction of her swing, being able to break from the lock their swords were held in and allowing her to thrust her sword forward to be able to knock him over. Acquiring the simple blow on him, the male tumbled back, thankful she did not do so hard enough to break through his breast plate.

Francis bit his bottom lip and began to circle around her once more, trying to catch his breath, yet the female did not allow such action, instead she lunged toward him and, Francis failing to block her attack, swiftly slashed his right arm slightly, enough to open a gash and cut through both his armour and the handkerchief, but nothing so serious.

The male grunted loudly and he almost dropped his sword, but he refrained from submitting to the woman just yet. Tightening the grip on the handel, he dropped his shield and removed his helmet to discard it somewhere around them. He smirked at the lady as beads of sweat glistened down his forehead.

The armoured Lady sighed and rolled her wrist as he returned to fighting position. Her stare remained locked on Francis, she did not dare glance at the crowd for she knew not to underestimate her opponents, yet she dropped her shield as well, to show she was not afraid of him.

The fight commenced once more as Francis attacked her, their swords clinging against one another again and again and again. As she believed she had found an opening but Francis was quick to block then, as he attacked her, he was able to knock the sword from between her fingers and lunge it relatively far from her.

The lady glanced at the sword then back at Francis and shot him a sly smile, dodging his next blow and ducking as he threw his other one. Luckily, by the time Francis was about to use his next attack, the woman had the short sword in her hands, allowing for her to block his attack and hit the back of his knee with the hilt of her sword, making the male collapse to the dirt. While he fell, the shorter of the two was able to disarm him, in which she decided to take his sword in her hands.

"Your knees were always your weakness." The green-eyed lady scoffed.

"Isabel?"

"You finally noticed?" She questioned, bringing both swords up in the air and striking them into the ground on either side of Francis' head, causing him to flinch.

The crowd roared as the infanta removed her helmet, allowing for her wavy dark chestnut hair to cascade down around her. Dropping her helmet to the floor, she raised her hand and bowed before the crowd as the Dauphin stood and Francis let his head drop backward to close his eyes for a short while.

"A hand for our new champion!" Charles proclaimed and smiled brightly.

"Are you not going to stand?" Isabel looked down at Francis.

"Sleep..." He murmured.

"Hurry up." She offered him her hand and smiled down at him. "Plus, do you not need to treat that wound?"

"Alright, if you wish." He yawned and gave her a smile as well.

"Thank you..." Her voice seemed distant due to the talk of the people.

"For?" Francis took her hand and allowed for her to help him to his feet.

"Wearing my colours." She had caught sight of the handkerchief tied around his arm as she had struck him. The piece of soft silk cloth was the original colours of her flag, the most beautiful she had ever thought of, some red and yellow covered the back and her crest remained in the middle, the lace fitting around the borders perfectly.

"Only for a beauty like you." Francis smiled at her and opened his arms to embrace her.

Isabel shot him another smile and hugged him. "Thank you." She was so overjoyed that he had worn her colours for this fight, that seemed to prove of importance to him.

"I've missed you." He mumbled in her ear.

Isabel did not complain for she enjoyed being in his arms at the moment, and therefore she did not make a retort to ruin their reuniting, or else it would have gotten rather messy in the arena.

* * *

"So they were adventurers?" Jeanne smiled.

"Oh yes! They were like three little King Arthurs; that old folk tale I bet you know it. They tell it about the villages a lot."

"The one about the boy that pulled the holy sword from the stone?"

"Yes that one!" Charlotte smiled. "They were great kids, really. Yet they did cause a handful of trouble."

"I bet." The peasant lady smiled brighter at the thought of the French cousins so young.

"They might have been tough to take care of, but they were lovely."

The ladies continued to walk throughout the gardens as they talked of when the day was young and their life was new.

"Ladies..." Francis smiled as he made his way towards the women. "I see that you've gotten along swimmingly."

"More or less." The nurse smiled.

"Well, I have got news for you, mes cheries." He finally got to the women.

"And what may they be?" Charlotte asked.

"That my beloved is coming home in two days' time." Francis gave a smirk.

"Mon Dieu! The manor is a mess and the infanta is coming?"


	3. The Arrival of Yet Another Royal

**The Arrival of yet Another** **Royal**

Early one Sunday morning, as Francis prepared for the day, Jeanne had awoken in order to help around the house, for now she was feeling much better than she had in a long time. She dressed herself in a simple white dress and made her way to the kitchen. By noon the servants were running all about the Manor, trying to make it as presentable as possible for when the Infanta arrived.

Jeanne prepared the appetizers as the other maids worked diligently, of course that was until Charlotte had entered the Kitchen howling her name. "Dear goodness! Jeanne, I have been looking all over the mansion for you, and why are you even here in the first place?" She hissed, grabbing the blonde by her wrist and dragging her out with her.

"I thought that I needed to help..." The peasant mumbled under her breath as the lady took her to Francis' room.

"You also need to look presentable to the Infanta, or what is she going to think? That Francis brought a stray dog to the house?" Charlotte huffed.

"I think I look decent..."

"Decent? Look what you did to yourself?" The elder of the two pointed out that her previously white dress was now a mix of red and other colours. "Have you no decency to walk around the Manor wearing that mess of a dress?"

"It was not like this before..."

"You were not to be in the Kitchen, why would you want to help?"

"I feel indebted to his Grace..."

"Stop speaking like that, raise your tone."

The arrived at the Master's room and they still bickered even after the male had come in sight.

"I would like for you to wear this, Jeanne." Francis smiled at her, handing her a blue dress. "I want you to look as beautiful as ever because I wish for Isabel to respect you, even though she would either way..." The blond male was a little uncertain of the Infanta's reactions.

"Oh, but I could never wear this..." She looked down at the dress, it was way too gorgeous for her, she would simply not wear it.

"Charlotte, please get her in this dress." Francis would not take her remark and wished for her to be dressed as soon as she possibly could, and after leaving the dress on the bed, he exited the room quickly.

The Lady took the dress in her hands and looked at Jeanne. "Now, you will wear this, or you  _will_ wear this." She extended the dress in front of her as she dead-panned.

Jeanne nodded began to remove her corset in order to wear the dress Francis wished to see her dressed in. After putting on the silky laced dress, Charlotte had begun to prepare her hair. The long blond locks were made into a braided crown, and she put jewels to decorate the younger girl's head. The woman then lightly touched upon her features with light make up and finished her off with white slippers.

The foot steps that filled the house seem to rush even more and then a servant's voice seemed to clarify the situation. "The infanta has arrived!"

Both Jeanne and Charlotte looked at one another and hurried out of Francis' chambers to see her.

Standing at the top of the concrete staircase in front of the Manor, Jeanne felt super nervous as she witnessed the carriage come to a complete halt. What if the Spaniard did not like her? How was Isabel even like? Was she rude nowadays? Or was she sweet? But what if she told Jeanne that she could not remain in the household? Where would Jeanne go then?

A thin figure emerged from the carriage, a simple red dress flowing around the voluptuous figure. The woman had long chestnut brown locks that were curled, but still allowed to fall around her face. A top her head, a lovely white lily flower crown was perched. Her lips were decorated a rich blood red, as for her cheeks were a soft pink, all the while, what caught Jeanne's eyes were the Spaniard's. Bright unpolished emerald orbs smiled at her.

Jeanne descended the stairs and held a smile on her lips, the lady was so beautiful. Isabel's figure was astonishing; a perfect hourglass shape. Her body so perfect and the dress fit all her curves in a too glorious manner.

The infanta sighed softly and brought a bright smile to her lips, she then proceeded to walking towards Jeanne -that is after she had already greeted Francis and Charlotte.

"Are you Jeanne d'Arc? The one I've been hearing so much about?" The lady's voice was a bit rough because of her accent, but nonetheless it was calming, _very calming._

"Oui, your Grace, I am Jeanne d'Arc." She bowed before the young royal.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you." There was something in the infanta's voice that made Jeanne a bit nervous.

"As it is an honour to meet you."

"May I?" The Spaniard lady lifted her hand.

"Oui..." Jeanne was confused of what the lady meant but agreed either way.

Isabel touched Jeanne's cheek softly, she caressed the younger girls cheeks for a while, holding some sort of sorrow in her eyes, even if her smile said otherwise. Dropping her hand on the other's shoulder, she then kissed each of Jeanne's cheeks. "Forgive me, your cheeks seemed really soft, I had to feel them before properly greeting you the way us Spaniards do." She smiled softly.

Jeanne smiled brightly for she found that the Spaniard custom was rather cute and informal. "Please, do not fret." She mumbled lightly.

"I very much fancy you." Isabel smiled.

"As do I, my lady." Jeanne bowed once more.

"Oh do not strain yourself, amor, you do not need to bow, I am a very informal person, so please do not treat me like a royal."

Jeanne nodded as she saw the similarities between Isabel and Francis, they were literally perfect for one another.

"They tell me that you are an orphan, is that correct, my dear?" Isabel hooked her arm around the younger female's.

"Up until around three months ago I was not, but ever since then, as the French Law declares, I am indeed an orphan..." Jeanne did not like the term, but she did not have any others to describe her current situation.

"Oh, you poor dear, please accept my empathy." The lady spoke as they made their way inside the house. "I have some gifts from Spain for you, my dear."

"You really did not need to do that. You did not even know me little less than ten minutes ago."

"But I feel like I have known you for a long time, as if we were sisters of sorts." She giggled. "Now, let us go see your gifts."

They walked up the grand stair case and were led to the room that was prepared for the infanta, of course it was a lot bigger than Jeanne's because she was royalty after all. The Spaniard began to unpack after the servants had left her bags. She looked about for the souvenirs she had brought with her for Jeanne. After finding the objects, she pulled them out and set them on the bed.

"From what Francis told me, you fit his young mother's size, and thus I had this dress made just for you! I also got you this pin, and this." The infanta pointed at the dress, pin, and golden rosary.

"You really should not have." The peasant was overwhelmed by the loveliness of the objects.

"Well, I really wanted you to have some gifts from me." She smiled brightly and held Jeanne's hands in hers. "Plus, I want us to become really good friends because I see you staying with us for a long time."

The dress was ever so beautiful, it was a creamy white, with jewels all over; decorating it to seem like one big diamond. White lace made the dress a long sleeve and made it have a turtle neck. Although it was still flirty, the dress was rather conservative; not exactly hiding all her skin but still managing to so as well. On the other hand, the hair pin was simple. A white lily ornament connected to an iron pin. Finally, the rosary's beads pure jade, having the chain gold and a beautiful crucifix of gold as well.

"Thank you." Jeanne smiled brightly. She would surely treasure these gifts for the remainder of her life, and never would she feel ungrateful for them.

"I want you to wear the dress on a special occasion. I do not know which one, but I want everyone to be stunned when they see how beautiful you are. Trust me, I assure you that you, my dear, are one of the most beautiful ladies I have ever met. Now, if I am not correct, should we not be getting ourselves downstairs for that meal that the servants were working so hard to make. I am sure that it will be just delicious!"

Jeanne really loved the Spaniard's optimistic attitude. Her smile seemed to brighten up her soul and made her feel happy and cheerful. Plus, the infanta's voice was so sweet that it made Jeanne want to listen to it all day; She would truly never get tired of the Spaniard, and hopefully the Spaniard did not get tired of her either.

The meal was most certainly delicious, the servants even made it obtain a certain Spanish twist with the seafood and spices. Truly, Isabel was both impressed and happy about their work. It really felt like she was at home, but she was still dying to try French cuisine for it had been so long since she had done so, about three months or so, she was unsure.

"You outdid yourselves." Isabel smiled as she drank from her wine.

"Really?" Francis lifted an eyebrow. "Personally this has a strong French taste."

"And that is why I enjoy it so much, it is because the French make such a delicious taste to their food."

"Like...?"

"It seems sweeter and much more royal." She laughed lightly. "You know, one day I'm going to take you to Spain with me and you are going to try our salty food," she turned to Jeanne, "and I am sure you will very much like it because you will get tired of this sweet food like I once did." Her giggle was sweet and not meant to offend.

"Everyone loves French Cuisine, and I really do not understand as to how the Burgundians even enjoy such tasteless English food." Francis joked as he bit into a strawberry.

"The Burgundians believe that the English are more Fancy, but that is one enormous lie, considering the French always make the latest fashions." Isabel smirked. "Well, enough about the enemy: Jeanne, tell me more about yourself..."

Jeanne lifted her head from her plate and looked at Isabel for a short while before glancing at Francis who nodded at her. "I-I... Well... I'm sixteen..." She mumbled.

"Mmhmm." The Infanta nodded.

"And... I had two older brothers and a younger one, so you could imagine what kind of life I lived when younger."

"I have three older brothers and two younger sisters, and trust me that is a lot to handle, so I understand how you felt." She laughed.

"They always made the largest of messes and I would have to take care of them, It was beyond me."

"Oh, I can only imagine, that must have been hard, but they were great company I bet."

"Yes, they were. They teased me a bunch, but I really loved them. They were good kids, they really were, and I really loved them. " She had such love in her eyes as well as sadness.

"I am so sorry..." Isabel looked down at her food and fidgeted with the fork, regretting bringing up the question and subject.

"Oh please, do not apologize." Jeanne smiled sorrowfully. "Either way, they were good kids and they made my childhood worthwhile."

"Jeanne, I want you to know that you can consider us your new family. Yes it is true, I may have just met you, but Francis has told me so much about you and I really care about you already. So please do think we are like family." Isabel was upset that she had lost all she ever loved but for that she also admired Jeanne. She might have not been strong at first and she was in such denial that every thing had happened to her, but now she was so strong about every single thing.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that." She smiled hopefully at Isabel and felt happy and peaceful for once since she had lost her family.

"Now that we have finished, do you fancy a game of chess in my room?" Isabel smiled.

"Oui." Jeanne was overjoyed in all reality, she was so happy about it all.

"Alright, then let us head upstairs."

"Good day, my ladies." Francis stood as the girls stood.

"Good day, Francis." Both Isabel and Jeanne bowed slightly before retiring to the Spaniard's chambers.

"Francis really admires you."

"Really?"

"Oh yes! He wrote a lot about you in his letters to me."

"Is that so?" Jeanne was truly a little flattered, alright more than a little.

"Oh yes! He wrote so nicely of you that I was always so excited to finally meet you and when I did, I was not disappointed but rather taken aback; you seem too familiar as if I have seen you in a dream or something."

"When I saw you, my princess, I was taken aback by your beauty; so much so that I could have fallen, and that is no exaggeration." Jeanne stated.

"Thank you. But do you want to know what he said about you? He said that he wanted you to find happiness and he would support your decision if you found that happiness somewhere other than this household. He also told me how beautiful you were and how sweet you were. He wants to make you happy, Jeanne, so please believe in him." There something about Jeanne that made Isabel want to cry. Not tears of sadness but rather of such beauty. It was not because of Jeanne's beauty, for Jeanne was very average looking, but rather her spirit.

"I do, milady."

"Please do not be so formal." Isabel smiled. "I love your hair, Jeanne; it looks very silky."

"Oh, thank you. I do not really think much of my hair, it has always been something I never paid attention to because as a peasant I had to worry less about my hair and more on my farm..." Jeanne did not mean to sound rude in anyway but Isabel took it as if she had been offended.

"Oh, I apologize I did not think you hated nobility, oh forgive me... I always manage to ruin things, do I not?"

"Oh no, sorry, I was not the slightest bit offended, I had just really realized it at that exact moment that I never cared for my hair. I am deeply sorry, forgive me." It was Jeanne who then apologized for her words this time around.

"Please, I have been speaking out of turn since I have arrived."

"If anyone is speaking out of turn it is I, your highness." Jeanne bowed.

"Then how about none of us has? And we keep to our first names?" Isabel replied and took the young girl into her chambers.

They sat down and looked at the chess board.

"Honestly, I did not want to play chess, I wanted to speak with you." Isabel began, taking a bishop in her delicate hands.

"Oh, of course, do go on." Jeanne nodded her head.

"You see... I have been thinking, Jeanne, that you have been through a lot but I know that you do not really want to talk about what you remember and trust me there are many things I would like to keep to myself as well, but trust me, if you do not tell anyone you will drown in desperation, I will always be willing to listen." Isabel smiled sweetly at Jeanne, her eyes smiling as well.

"Thank you." Jeanne felt so safe with the Infanta, it was something that made her happy.

"I will always be here." She repeated.

The girl had become rather close in the proceeding weeks, they even had a picnic once, but Jeanne was still afraid to tell the infanta about her encounter with the Burgundians. In addition, it was rather complicating with the entire status difference.

"Jeanne! I wish to ask you something?"

"Yes, Isabel?" Jeanne lifted her head from the knitting she was doing.

"Would you like to go riding with Francis and I?" She asked as she clapped her hands together.

"Yes, of course, when will we be going?" She mumbled.

"In half an hour please get ready, we are definitely going and I want to show you something I found of my way here, alright?" Isabel smiled.

"Alright." Jeanne nodded as the Spaniard exited the room.

Jeanne had looked at the dress she was currently making, it was going rather good and the dress was looking beautiful. She liked it and was excited for when she was able to give it to Isabel. Moving on, the lady stood from her seat and walked to the closet; she did not want to change her clothing but she was unsure if the light dress she was wearing was appropriate for a ride.

Mounting the horse, Jeanne joined the other two young adults and smiled at them. "It is a really lovely day to ride." She stated.

"Oh yes! It is an amazing day!" Isabel smiled brightly. "In addition, I believe that the picnic will be perfect since the day is so beautiful, right Francis?"

"Oui, it will be." Francis nodded. He was glad that Jeanne had fit in so nicely into the manor. He was so happy that Jeanne and Isabel were very friendly.

"Well then, we should be off." Isabel smiled and commanded her horse to gallop ahead to the river far from the manor.

Soon enough they arrived at an abandoned church atop a peek of a hill. Isabel loved mysterious places and so she was really happy to see the abandon church.

"Let's go in!" She clapped her hands together.

Francis was quick to agree for he had always loved adventure. But Jeanne was a little sceptical about the whole entering the church ordeal. She did not really want to for some strange reason.

"How about I scope the outside? While you two check the inside." She reasoned.

Isabel saw no problem in it and shrugged. "Sí, si usted quiere." She smiled as Francis followed her inside the abandoned church.

For a rather peculiar reason, Jeanne found the church all too familiar and she honestly did not want to know why.

Isabel entered the church quietly, after moving a heavy birch door she was able to see the beautiful structure. The church had a cathedral ceiling, as for the alter, it was simple but still beautiful. The pews and alter table were made out of fine birch, the same as the door. The stone floor was covered with growing flowers and plants within the cracks of the stones. Although the stained glass windows were partially cracked or even broken, the light was still filtered into the church with such beautiful patterns and colours.

"It is rather amazing..." Francis mumbled.

"It is..." Isabel smiled brightly.

Francis was the first to move as he inspected the church, and after finding nothing out of the ordinary he returned to Isabel after a couple of minutes, who remained standing in the same spot Francis had left her.

"I can tell you adore it." Francis smiled. "Well then, I will leave you to it then; in the meantime, I will be looking for Jeanne." He stated but the Spaniard did not reply at all.

Isabel was so amazed that she wished to sit down and so she slowly made her way to the front of the church. She imagined being draped in a white dress, her figure ever so happy that she wanted to die right then. She would love to get married at a place like this. She glanced ahead of her and imagined her groom waiting for her; it was not necessarily Francis, because that could always change, but she imagine that she loved that mysterious man that God had given to her. She looked at the pews and imagined her family and his sitting on them, smiling and blowing her kisses. She took all the time she needed to process the beauty of the church. She sat on the right hand of the church in one of the pews at the front. Her hand flew to the birch beside her. Feeling the rough wood beneath her finger tips she thought of how many people sat there; the mass they had attended, or the marriage they had witnessed, or even when they mourned for their loss.

"It is so beautiful..." Isabel mumbled as tears sprung from her eyes.

"It is..." A voice came from the back of the church.

Isabel's head snapped to where the sound of the voice was heard, there she saw a man standing by the door. She could not see him clearly for the sun was glaring at her. But she saw that he was handsome and tall.

"A-ah yes..." Isabel continued as the man approached. "Do you live near by? Am I trespassing?"

"You could say I live near by, but you are not trespassing by any means." The man came into clear view. He was dark haired and very very handsome. His smile was sweet and sincere and he had dimples on either sides of his cheeks.

"Oh..." She mumbled lightly, her voice near whisper.

"The church is two hundred years old. It's been abandoned for thirty five but that is already been a very long time."

"But nature makes it look so beautiful..." Isabel smiled.

"It does, does it not?" He smiled as well. "Your friend, Jeanne, is a very important person."

Isabel did not notice it, but how did he know Jeanne was her friend.

"She is an amazing girl. Please take care of her. By the trough of the hill is her village. She used to love to come here when her life was not so destroyed; though her mother would not usually allow it. Ironically though, her mother sent her here to spare her from the Burgundians." The man spoke as he looked up at the crucifix.

"Who are you...?" Isabel was hesitant to ask but she decided she needed to know.

"A friend. An ally. One that will do his best to help you." He kept his gaze of Jesus.

"How so? You seem to know much about Jeanne. Are you perhaps her brother? Someone she thought she lost?" Isabel was confused.

"I am her friend. I care about her and when she knows it is her time to complete her fate, she will see me as her friend as well and she will want to be my friend."

"Her fate?"

"You will see, Isabel, be patient for God and I will guide et to greatness."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean to say that the time will come until you understand. But do not fret for I will help you all throughout your journey and hers. Understand that you are to help greatness and greatness is to help you." The male stood and gave her a bright smile as he began to leave.

"B-but-" Isabel was cut short.

"You will see me often, and until the next time; may The Lord our God help you and bless you in your journeys." The male looked back to give her one last smile before vanishing into the sunlight.

"W-wait!" Now Isabel was way beyond confused, but once the man had disappeared to thin air, she was dumbfounded.

Her mind began to roam until a high pitched screech invaded her ears. She was startled and afraid at first, but that was only for a little while before the screams became more and more constant.

"Jeanne!" Isabel realized that the voice was way too familiar. Now she began to panic; what had happened to her friend?

Quickly, Isabel made her way out of the church and to the source of the screaming. Although the screams echoed around her in the woods, she could make out in which direction the screams were erupting from.

Isabel ran down the hill, dodging trees and jumping over roots and rocks, trying her best to find her friend. Her dress was ripping and tearing, but she cared little for those things. Even when she ran into a pool of mud, she continued without a thought of stopping.

"Jeanne!" She yelled out as the screams seemed to approach and a faint foul stench also got stronger. "Jeanne!"

The screams were deafening and Isabel wanted to cover her ears, but she resisted the urge.

Finally, as if it had taken her ages, she saw Jeanne on the floor crying her heart out and screaming as she looked upon the land before her. There were skeletons scattered about the floor for kilometre or so. Not exactly skeletons yet because some bodies still obtained flesh .

Isabel's eyes grew wide and she almost hurled but she suppressed it. Her attention diverted to Jeanne, who remained screaming and crying on the floor.

"Jeanne! Jeanne! Look at me, look at me!" Isabel hurried to her and fell to the floor in front of her.

Jeanne remained screaming, tears streaming down her face, as her eyes held something more than sorrow and depression; Isabel could not explain it.

"Jeanne!" Isabel took the Frenchwoman's face in her hands and made her look at her. "Jeanne look at me, look at only me."

"T-t-they were..." Jeanne cried.

"Just look at me, alright? Forgive me, but stop crying, alright?" She hushed softly to calm down the other figure.

"M-my village..."

"Listen to me, Jeanne. Your life is with us now, I can assure you that your village is in a happier place now. They are hoping for you to be happy and move on. So please Jeanne, do them and me the favour, move on; your head held high, your mind in a positive state, alright?"

"M-my family!" Jeanne tried to stand but her knees gave out and she fell to the floor again.

"Jeanne, listen, listen, they are happy now."

* * *

The Burgundians and a troop of an English fleet had attacked her village on a spring evening, setting houses on fire, capturing women, slaughtering children, fighting men; that was how it had all begun. She remembered how her mother hurried to find something really important within their stone house. But as the screams of people approached; she had grabbed the rosary and ran to her daughter.

"Mon amour, listen, please listen. You are still quite young and I love you, go to the church, okay?" Her mother panted.

"But maman, what about father? And my brothers?" Jeanne hurried to grab other objects as well.

"Jeannette, dear, you mustn't take anything with you. The Burgundians may find you."

"What do you mean mother?"

"Go to the church on the hill within the forest, take refuge there and until we come to get you, do not return. Don't even look back." Her mother shook.

"What do you mean? You are not coming with me?" Jeanne began to tear up.

The screams grew by the second, and the evening sun set to make way for the new warm light. Fires lit the town in orange and yellow; sparks flew in the sky as if they were harmless fireflies.

"I need to find your father to tell him where you are." The elder lady answered.

"But maman, please, come with me."

"I cannot."

At the exact moment they had hugged, Burgundian soldiers had burst the door open and began to pull the two females from one another's arms.

"Maman!" Jeanne screamed, she felt the strong soldier's arms squeeze her ever so hard the she might have died.

"Jeannette! Run!" Her mother wailed.

Jeanne had been taken outside and thrown on the floor, which was when the soldier had leaned onto her and stared at her with lustful eyes. Jeanne feared for both her life and virginity at this point.

She saw the men of her town try to defeat the large Burgundian group, she saw them fall to the floor and gasp their last breath. She saw the women run around trying to hide between the burning hell, and children failing to follow their mothers and either falling or being shot by arrows.

"Bonjour, ma chérie, you are rather beautiful." The soldier gently pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

Jeanne, still remaining with pride, spat at the man, only to be pushed onto the muddy floor completely, being pinned down by the man with angry orbs.

Something important had to happen because he was no longer on top of her, yet instead groaning on the mud next to her.

"Jeannette! Get up!" The voice of her older brother yelled loudly and he helped her up.

"Jean? Jean! Jean!" She began to cry as she threw her arms around him.

"Run Jeannette, run. Go! Run away, now! I'll get maman and Pierre. Father is... Just run Jeannette run!" Her brother pushed her so that she would get going.

"No, no Jean, I cannot leave without you." She shook her head rapidly, hearing the screams and seeing the hell that was her village.

"Go Jeannette!"

"B-but-"

"Jeannette! Go! I promise we will be fine! I promise you! Go!"

"No!"

"Jeanette, go! Go now! It will be alright, go! I'll protect maman and Pierre!" Jean was upset and hurt that she didn't want to save herself. "Jeannette, Jeannette, go, one of use has to survive, please go."

Jeanne no longer argued but instead turned and began to run. She ran past the many wails and groans of pain, screams of help, even prayers. She ran past her dead and dying friends, past her people, past her neighbours and even enemies. As much as she had wanted to stop and help, her body did not stop running. She ran over puddles of mud and blood, past the burning crops, past the destroyed houses, past her life. She ran away from everything she had ever known, but she ran with grief and sadness. Finally finding refuge upon the abandoned church on the hill within the forest, she hid under the stone table upon the altar and hugged her knees. She did not exactly remember the entire run to the church but it seemed she had forgotten something important.

The church did look a little old. Some of the stained glass windows were broken as the trees had decided to hug the beautiful building. The crucifix, although rather old, was perfect. Grass grew within the granite floor and the pews were slightly covered with vines.

Branches and twigs had scratched her all over her body and even torn her dress. She was afraid that the soldiers would find the trail that would lead them straight to her.

There she began to cry for what seemed like months, until someone had entered the church. Yet it had only been five days since the village was attacked and she hope for her mother and brothers to come to her soon for she was only surviving on collected rain water in the church.

Armour clanged against itself and boots formed footsteps on the granite floor.

"Hello my dear Lord." A strong husky voice came. "Forgive my comrades, my dear Lord. Forgive them, for I know that what they do is wrong, I know that that is not your will... Forgive us."

"Hey, are you done inspecting the place? We found some pieces of clothing stuck to some branches." Another soldier's voice demanded.

"Almost done." The main male replied the proceeded to look around, mumbling for God to forgive them all.

Finally, Jeanne could see his feet under the mantle and ever so close to her.

Jeanne covered her mouth as if to stop her breathing, but once the soldier crouched down, Jeanne knew it was most likely going to end it death.

The man lifted the mantle and his green eyes widened at the sight of the poor girl.

Jeanne was prepared to scream until his hand flew to cover her mouth.

"Shhh, I will not hurt you." He hushed. "Are you from the village?"

Jeanne held fear and sorrow in her eyes, she was afraid that if she answered he would make sure there were no survivors.

"I promise, I will not harm you." He mumbled gently. "And you promise me to keep quiet." His English accent was strong but all the while soothing to her ears. It felt nice to not hear screams but rather whispers.

After Jeanne's approval, the soldier removed his hand from her mouth and mumbled. "Are you from the village at the bottom of this hill?"

"Y-yes..." She whispered.

The man smiled ever so brightly and hugged her tightly. "I am so glad that at least one was spared." He whispered.

The poor French girl was confused but mumbled a small thank you, for she was truly thankful that God had sent her a merciful man.

"I must go now, do not leave the church for another day, we will be long gone by then, and I am sorry I was not able to bring you food, hopefully you find some before you die... Good luck." He said as he stood and left the church after reciting an Our Father in thanksgiving for the last of the village's inhabitants.

Jeanne had done as the man instructed, and by the morrow, she had decided to return to the village.

That was when she had seen that she was the only thing alive in the entirety of her village.

Bodies scattered the floor, and going a week without food, she was weak. As a result she ended up falling on the many bodies.

Amongst the horrid display before her, she found the bodies of her family. This had caused her to fall on her knees and begin to bawl her eyes out.

"You promised it would all be alright, Jean... You promised." She cried into her dead brother's chest.

"You promised Jean! You promised! Why? Why did you lie to me? Jean, why? Why? If you knew this was going to happen, why did you lie?"

After sitting next to her deceased family members, she began to tell stories of when they all lived like a happy family in the peaceful French country side. Of course no one really hearing her and she was not telling her family, but rather God. Of course in reality she was not able to remember the stories of which she told for she did not even recall her own past.

After remaining with them for hours, she stood and began to walk over the dead bodies once more, hoping to at least find someone else in this lifeless monstrosity.

But after searching and searching she had become sleep deprived and exhausted, this resulted into her becoming rather weak and hopeless.

* * *

"Jeanne! Jeanne!" She was shaken awake by Isabel. "Oh thank God you are alright!" She sighed loudly.

"Isa...bel...?" Her brows weakly furrowed as the face of the beautiful lady became clear.

"Oh Jeanne, thank you." Isabel smiled.

"Where am I?" The girl inquired with a raspy and confused voice. Her eyes wandered around her and noticed the blue sky filtered by the many leaves.

"Francis has not found us yet..." Isabel mumbled to the woods around her. "I tried to get you as far from the village as possible but it was very hard for me, so I only got you half way up the hill..."

"I remembered everything..." She was not listening to what Isabel had to say.

"You did?"

"They tried to protect me..." Jeanne stared up at the sky as she watched the clouds roll over them.

"A family always does that."

"But they tried so hard. They all wanted me to survive; my father, my mother and my brothers. They all wished for me to survive."

Isabel remained silent for she knew the young girl was reflecting on what she could have done to save her village.

"I do not know why they did not want to save themselves, they only protected me the only way they could..."

"A family strives for the best, and clearly they wanted the best for you." Isabel mumbled.

Jeanne remained silent and did not speak a single word for she simply wished to let the horrid events of the past wash over her and disappear once and for all.

"I have a feeling your family saved you because they knew you were destined to be great, they knew that one day you would be all that everyone needed the entire time."

Jeanne listened to Isabel's words as she weakly stood. Maybe Isabel was right, but not even the richest of nobles had everything to be what someone needed.

"I would like to visit my house..." She mumbled.

Isabel looked up at Jeanne and stood slowly as well. "I do not wish to stop you, but the bodies..."

"As long as I can see my house I think I can survive for the entirety of my life..."

"Alright, and as soon as we do so we must find Francis. It is highly impossible he did not hear your screams..."

"We must hurry then." Jeanne seemed surprisingly calm now, Isabel was not sure if it was because she finally screamed to her heart's content or because she finally remembered everything.

"Come on, it is this way." Jeanne directed as Isabel did not budge to move the slightest.

"O-oh, y-yes." Isabel was pulled by the younger female.

They made their way back to the bottom of the hill to face the mostly decomposed bodies. Jeanne tried to avert her gaze from the skeletal faces of her neighbours and friends. All the while, Isabel tried her best not to look at the skeletons. Her eyes were glued on them as her mind sent empathy Jeanne's way.

"Where was you house?" Isabel wanted to avert her attention.

"The stone brick house on the far left." Jeanne pointed at a two story house that still stood decently built.

The stone was smoked but it did not seem to be damaged in a great deal. Jeanne hoped that she was not the only to survive this ordeal, and whether or not it was someone she disliked she only wished she was not the only one.

Jeanne began to walk first; her feet walked over the bodies and she lifted her muddied dress as to not disrupt the dead. Isabel was soon to follow with the same steps as Jeanne had made a pathway in between the skeletons.

The ladies remained quite as the atmosphere around them felt dense and rather heavy. It was very unnatural; no birds chirped, no insects beamed, no animals scurried around them and no wind blew. It was as if they had met with the most supernatural place on earth. As if they were standing on the thread between what was real and what was unrealistic, as if they had crossed and stood between the two parallels of life and death.

"Jeanne... I do not seem fond of this..." Isabel felt uneasy as she felt a shiver run down her spine.

"We are nearly there." Jeanne replied as she too felt what Isabel was currently feeling.

"Alright." The Spaniard gulped.

Finally, they had reached the house and Jeanne glanced at the bodies around the structure; had the weather been so brutal as to have the bodies nearly completely decomposed.

"It seems like it was rather beautiful..." Isabel smiled sorrowfully as she imagined the fields fully grown and the flowers blooming.

"It was, if I recall correctly." Jeanne smiled in return as they stepped foot into her house.

Other than the misplaced objects and the destroyed furniture the house was in good shape. The Burgundians were not as evil as to set it on fire and so the house was in tact.

"Do you know how to start a fire?" Jeanne asked quietly.

"Yes... Why?" Isabel questioned as she paced around the living room.

"Please set it on fire. The memories I have last of this house are not beautiful, so please do me the favour of letting those memories burn with it and only the good ones to remain."

"B-but Jeanne..."

"Please."

Isabel grabbed two stones from the outside of the house and walked in, she made a pile of scattered wood and began to clash the stones together. After much anticipation, the rocks sparked and created a small fire.

"We should begin upstairs." Jeanne announced as they each took a torch of fire with them.

Upon arriving at the top floor, the females set the furniture and clothing on fire. It was hard for Isabel to obey Jeanne's orders because she knew that Jeanne loved this house more than anything in this world.

"Please, Isabel..." Jeanne begged as she saw that the infanta was hesitant about her command.

"Yes of course." Isabel nodded as she obeyed her friend and they proceeded to burn the ground floor.

Jeanne and Isabel stood outside the house; watching as the structure began to burn on the inside. Jeanne only stared with such sadness but at the same time relief. It was as if she could finally move forward for nothing was holding her back anymore.

"Francis is probably looking for us now..." Jeanne spoke and turned to face away from her house as tears weld in her eyes and her nose began to tingle.

"Yes..." Isabel let her gaze remain on the burning house.

"Are you coming?" Jeanne asked once she noticed the infanta staring at the house.

"Oh, yes, sorry Jeanne."

The two walked back to the top of the hill but took their time doing so because they had a feeling Francis was waiting a top the hill.

"May you please not tell Francis of what occurred?" Jeanne mumbled.

"You have my word that I shall not tell." Isabel shot a soft smile.

"Alright then..." Jeanne nodded lightly.

Upon reaching the top of the hill, the pair saw the man sitting next to his horse with his head in his hands.

"Francis!" Isabel sighed loudly and ran to him, her muddied dress patting down the grass behind her.

"Isabel!" Francis quickly stood and met her mid stride to hug her tightly.

Jeanne panted slightly and dropped her head. She felt so weak and she could feel her knees begin to buckle slightly. Her mind focused on keeping awake and standing, she was unsure if she could hold up much longer. Her joints ached and her muscles seemed to turn into lumps of unstructured mass. They seemed jello-like and could not contract or stretch when needed. No matter how much she tried to remain standing, she fell to the floor and became unconscious.

* * *

The land around her burned like a fiery hell, the men fell one by one as the sword in her hands felt heavy and she dropped it. Quickly, she let her hands cover her ears as she tried to mute out the horrid battle cries the soldiers let out.

She desperately tried to mute them as she covered her ears more intently. But even if she went deaf, she knew that she was still going to hear the screams of the soldiers. Then as the despair seemed too much for her to handle, the skies opened up and a light beamed through the clouds that seemed to drape the land in utter darkness.

From the light, a figure emerged. Lovely blue and white draped the beautiful figure. It was a man, a very handsome man that obtained white wings from his shoulder blades. He had a sword strapped onto his waist on a light brown belt. A lance in his right arm and he as well wore light armour over his white robes and the blue sash remained wrapped around his arms. "Do not be afraid, my child; I have come to let you know of your future, if you so choose it."

"You shall be great, my dear child, for you are to save the kingdom of France." The figure spoke. "So rise, my young one, rise and be the leader that one day you will soon become. If you choose this fate you choose to follow along at side the strong. Choose, my dear, choose the path you would like to take. Fight for your country in the name of The Lord or remain seated and watch as your beautiful country falls."

Jeanne was mesmerized by the beauty the figure beheld, but she nodded lightly and tried her best to stand on her own feet and she did so with much courage.

The male took her hand in his and smiled ever so brightly at her. "You have chosen the right path; you have chosen the path that will lead you to pure and utter greatness. You will be remembered in the minds of men for centuries to come. You cannot tell many people of this, only your heart will tell you who can know."

Jeanne smiled back and the land around her no longer beheld the scream of dying men, but rather the chants and roars of the many victorious men. The sky cleared up and the men stood from where they had fallen. the meadow grew grass and wild flowers as Jeanne wore armour. It was an army of angels; her army.

* * *

She awoke on her bed, actually the bed she was given, and she sat up slowly, taking sight of the things around her. Everything was normally set and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, not that anything was, but she was still mesmerized by the figure that had appeared in her dream. She had also wondered how they had brought her home after she had given out in front of the church.

She closed her eyes for a short while, trying her best to imagine the figure again. She was sure he was an angel, and by the sword he had, she suspected he was an archangel, most likely Michael. But what was it that he wished from her? He did say she was to be great, but in what? She wished to remain alone for a long while to straighten things in her mind, but not all she wishes comes true. In the exact instant that Jeanne had laid back down, a certain blond male entered the room.

Jeanne twitched her head towards the door noting that the male remained looking at the floor.

"Hmm... What did she mean?" The male spoke to himself. "What did she mean by  _great._..?"

Jeanne remained silent and pretended to be asleep, but once the man had sat on the bed next to her, she slowly and convincingly opened her blue orbs.

"Oh, you're awake! Good lord!" Francis smiled. "How have you slept?"

"How did I get here?" She mumbled lightly, seeming more realistic. There was nothing to hide but she felt as if she needed to.

"Oh... After you collapsed, Isabel got you on her horse and we rode back slowly, making sure not to harm you in the process."

"How long..."

"Three days, I only came by to check on you, I'm glad to see you are doing well and have finally awoken, but Isabel is highly concerned about you; she is rambling about you and things of the sort, you might want to speak with her about those." Francis explained as he looked at her for he was used to her not waking up for days, noting that she had possibly awoken before he had entered.

"Yes, I shall do that..." She slowly nodded.

"Did you, perhaps..." Francis began, "see anything with Isabel back there?"

"Pardonnez-moi?" She tilted her head to her right, observing the Frenchman's face.

"I was only pondering about something that Isabel had said and I had thought that you possibly had seen it too..."

"What did she see?" Jeanne mumbled, fearing she was stepping out of line.

"It is best if she explains that to you, mon ange, mais, as far as I know, it was nothing horrible, so to speak."

"When will I be able to see her?"

"I can call on her right away for you, since I do need to see her either way, so just sit still and she should be here in a couple of minutes." Francis smiled.

"Alright, thank you, Francis." She smiled lightly and sat up straight.

Francis filed out of the room and headed for Isabel's chambers. He smiled at the thought that Jeanne seemed to be perfectly fine, but after a little while he noticed that she did seem a little off.

"Francis Bonnefoy; duke of Lorraine and Alsace." A footman called as Francis entered the room.

"Oh, you are back. And what calls you here?" They had a small fight before he proceeded to check on Jeanne and thus Isabel was giving him a small glare.

"Jeanne has awoken and she asks if she can see you." Francis spoke and bowed slightly for she was still of Spanish royal Kin; a princess to be exact.

"Of course she can; I shall go visit her right away." Isabel nodded and stood from the seat she was currently at, writing a letter to her parents of her stay this far.

"She is waiting for you." Francis spoke and turned to leave, trying not to say something out of hand.

"Francis, if you will not support my decision, know that I will leave either way, and I will take Jeanne with me whether you would so care as to come along with us or not." Isabel walked gracefully towards him, even if he was not looking at her and had his back to her.

"I will not allow you to leave so foolishly." The male stated as he left the room.

Isabel followed closely behind and left the room as well. "You cannot order the infanta of Spain."

"But I can order my future wife to do what I please."

"If I were in your position I would not be so keen on the idea." Isabel grunted and headed for Jeanne's room, trying her absolute best not to speak lowly of the man. Her head hurt by now and she knew she was definitely red or something of the sort.

She opened the door brutally, startling Jeanne, but once she saw her she smiled brightly. "Oh Jeanne! How are you? Do you hurt? Was it because we burnt the house?" Isabel hurried to her.

"Oh, I am fine, thank you." Jeanne nodded. "No I am not hurt, and I do not believe it is because of that."

"Jeanne, I might seem crazy to you as I am to Francis at the moment, but have you met a man since you discovered your village?" Isabel sat on a chair next to the bed.

"A man?" Jeanne lifted a blond eyebrow and looked at Isabel a little confused.

"Yes, a man; a very handsome one. He was tall and quite majestic." Isabel explained.

"A man, that I have met? I saw a majestic being in my dreams... He said something about my future... But then again it was a dream." Jeanne thought for a bit.

"What did he say?" The infanta cocked her head to her right.

"The man in my dreams?" Jeanne looked at Isabel, the figure had warned her not to tell unless she felt she could trust them; but in her heart she knew she could trust Isabel.

"Sí, the man in your dreams."

"He said I was to be great. I do not understand what he meant but all I know is that I shall save France."

"You will be great... The man I met said the same." Isabel spoke. "Save France? What does he mean?"

"I do not know..." She shrugged.

The two spoke of the men each one had seen and they had come to the conclusion that he was indeed the same man; but why was it that they had seen him in totally different situations?

They talked about their future until it was late in the night and Isabel had retired to her room and proceeded to ready herself for bed. She thought about the man and confused herself on how Jeanne had seen him in her dreams but Isabel had not. Once she laid herself to bed and blew out her candle, she had recalled the events of the previous days.

* * *

_The fire climbed high into the night and watched in tears as a girl was sentenced to the stake. Her green eyes were wide and red with the tears she had cried earlier and as the girl was set on fire, Isabel screamed. Her throat did not stop her cry and she was awoken by the sound of her own voice._

Isabel panted as beads of sweat glistened down her forehead. The young lady was caught off guard by the nightmare and she shook her head vigorously. She had hoped she would stop dreaming that. It had been two months since she had ha the nightmare, and she hoped it had left her, but the night proved that it stalked her like a dark shadow.

"Who goes there?" Isabel asked, her heart in her throat and her hand flying to the sword attached to her bedside once she had heard movement in her room.

The moonlight only allowed a certain part of her room to be lit, and the rest was left in utter darkness. She mumbled a couple of threatening words as if they would dispel whomever lurked in her chambers.

"Be not afraid, I come to you with all means of peace." A quite familiar voice spoke from the shadows. Then a man emerged, the man she had met at church.

Quickly, Isabel drew her sword and pointed it at the man. "Why have you you followed me here? You are aware I can have your life taken from you."

"You are in no position to end the life of a man. No one in this world has the power to end the life of another, only God does." The man replied and took a seat on the couch in front of her bed.

"Why are you in my chambers?" She repeated.

"You had a dream of a girl burning at the stake."

"How do you know?" Isabel glared at the man.

"I much more about you than you know of yourself." He smiled lightly. "I have come to tell you to not be afraid of this dream. The dream tells you the future; whether it be completed or not."

"Future? Of who?" Isabel loosened the grip on the sword and slowly lowered it.

"Your friend; Jeanne d'Arc."

Now Isabel was upset; she dropped the sword unto her lap and held her head with her hand. "H-how do I stop it?" She asked the man.

"You will know how to save her when it is time. Please, do not fret, for knowing what God has planned is a gift only few can imagine to have, while the others would not even dream of having because it is too grand for them. The future behold a truth and deceptions as well, but believe me, you will thank God for this gift."

"Who are you?"

"You already know who I am, and so does Jeanne. I was the figure that appeared to her in her dreams, but to her I come with all my glory, while I come to you as a modest friend. I command Jeanne, but I advise you."

"Are you an angel?" She mumbled lightly.

"Yes, indeed I am." The man nodded and stood from the couch with a soft smile on his lips.

"Which angel?" She questioned.

"You already know." He smiled at her brightly. "Now heed my words, and do good; follow Jeanne until the end." The man then vanished into thin air and Isabel was left in astonishment and thought.

After the first day, she had encountered the angel many more times. It was an angel indeed for the following day, Isabel had hurried to the chapel in Francis' estate, where she had found a portrait of Saint Michael. Of course it was Michael all along! Why had she not noticed it in the church before? Or in her room?

"Jeanne must crown the king of France in the île de France; there she will prove that she was truly sent from God." The voice of Archangel Michael filled the room.

Immediately Isabel had the idea to take Jeanne to the Dauphin of France, but how would she do that without the consent of Francis; and that was how they had come upon the argument. Francis had considered her unwell and unstable. She was not to leave the house whether she agreed to it or not.

* * *

Thinking about the events of the previous days made her head ache, and thus she decided to sleep.

Her mind still thought of their fight and with every growing second, she got even more impatient with Francis.

In the morning, Isabel had dashed into Francis' room and stood at the door way, her green eyes turned to slits. "Once Jeanne feels better I am leaving." She announced.

Francis shook his head as her tied up his boots. "You are acting unreasonably." He sighed and stood from his bed.

"No I am not."

"Only because a voice tells you that Jeanne will have the Dauphin crowned does not mean you listen to it."

"A voice in the chapel; the voice of Archangel Michael." She corrected.

"It was your imagination, now forget about it."

"I will not! If God tells you to do something will you ignore Him?"

"No, I-"

"Exactly! I will help Jeanne as much as I possibly can. And if I do not go as your Fiancée to court, I go as the infanta of Spain." Isabel remained still by the doorway.

Francis walked towards her and took a hold of her hand lightly. "I will have none of this, you are my fiancée and have been so for the past ten years, that will not change. Not only am I your fiancé but I am your friend; and I am telling you not to go. If you you do not take my advice as a future husband and long time friend, you will take my command as your current duke." His face became straight and his tone was slightly lower than usual, and most threatening.

"Are you threatening me, Francis?"

"If I must."

"You shan't threaten the Princess of Spain, for that can cause wars between our countries." She gritted her teeth at his audacity.

"I am threatening my fiancée, not the infanta." He looked deeply in her eyes and blinked. "And you will do as I say." He stated before letting her hand go and leaving her in the room alone.

Was Isabel ever going to get her way? What if she could never leave with Francis?

Meanwhile, Jeanne was told to pack because she was to be leaving soon. She was unsure if she was being let go by the family or if they were taking her somewhere, all she knew was that she needed to pack, and Francis was not to know.

"Hello, young lady," a voice spoke from behind her and Jeanne turned to face the door to greet the figure, "I am glad that you are to complete what God has set upon you."

It was the angel from her dreams, he looked exactly like he had in her dream. His wings were not expanded for they would not be able to fit in her chambers, but he was ever so beautiful. Jeanne fell to her knees and began to cry tears of joy. The angel was so beautiful that she had to admire him. The robes of the angel were the softest the world could ever behold, and his attire the finest.

"My dear, you must go to French Court with the Princess of Spain, there you will tell the Dauphin Charles that you are the second half of the prophecy." The angel spoke. "In your dream you chose to fight in order to protect and defend your beloved France, and now you shall do just so."

"But how? How will I save France?"

"The Lord and I will guide you and you shall not fail, but beware of fire." And with his words of wisdom, he disappeared into the light.

In an instant, Jeanne had a change of heart. Her small demeanour changed and she felt strong and courageous. She stood from the floor and hurried to pack her things. It was as if something had washed over her and made her an entirely new person. If she was to crown the Dauphin, she was to do so as soon as possible.

"Jeanne? What are you doing?" Francis had found her packing the last of her things.

"I am to crown the Dauphin of France." She stated as she turned to him.

"What has gotten into you and Isabel?" He was worried now; why were they talking about something so unlikely all of the sudden?

Jeanne smiled softly and made sure to look at Francis in the eyes. "We must leave right away."

"That is not your decision to make, Jeanne, not even Isabel's, alright?" Francis sighed loudly.

"I am sorry Francis but it is not  _your_  decision to make." She stated.

"Jeanne, you are not to leave this house! I cannot stand for a peasant not heeding my words!"

"It is nice to know that you remain to see me as a peasant, but heed  _my_  words, Francis; if you will not help me, then you are against me and are no different than any Burgundian or English in this Land." Her tone was extraordinary, Francis had never heard her be so forward and brave about anything.

"Now you make no sense at all."

"The prophecy; I am to fulfil it, and if you do not support me, you oppose me." She took her bag and walked out of the room, heading to the carriage that awaited the two young women.

"Jeanne! Are you going insane?" Francis followed her down the grand staircase, noting Isabel was already at the door awaiting Jeanne. "Jeanne! Isabel!" His eyes grew wide as he called out to them, but they dared not look back.

"If you leave, Isabel, notre fiançailles is broken!" He did not like to be defied, specially not by a woman.

"Perdóname, Francis." She mumbled and exited the house.

 


End file.
